


The Plot

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Copious Cockles [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Birthday Party, Bottom Jensen, Bottom Misha, Cockles, Cockles Week, Conventions, Death, Drinking Games, F/M, Fatherhood, First Kiss, Fluff, Guilt, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Marriage, Mild S&M, Mishapocalypse, Misunderstandings, New chapters added on occasion, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Podfic Welcome, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, SFCon15, Singing, Suspicions, Tie Kink, Top Jensen Ackles, Top Misha, Voyeurism, Wet Dream, Wives, Women of Supernatural, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 79,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen has it pretty good: great wife, great kid, great job and great friends. He's content ... that is, until his great wife and great friends plot against him. His perfect little world is quickly obliterated, but sometimes— putting something back together actually makes it better in the long run.<br/><a href="http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html"></a><img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Overhaul

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this after reading multiple Cockles fics and not liking how the wives were being represented. Most of the time, they were either an after thought by the guys, or the wives were disregarded completely. I don't like the idea of depicting either Jensen or Misha as that sort of husband. I think that a person's choice in partner reflects the individual greatly. If we all love the boys so much, their wives have to be pretty cool too. So, this is a little nod to their awesome wives, and of course ... there will be Cockles-love!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: [castiel-left-his-mark-on-me](http://castiel-left-his-mark-on-me.tumblr.com/)

            Danneel’s phone rings, jolting Jensen out of his trance. He's always amazed at how these overhaul car-shows suck him in. They’re all the same. The car is brought up. It's crap. There’s apparent drama on cost or parts, or how to fix it; but then the deadline is _always_ met and a profit is _always_ gained. It’s monotonous. _He loves it_.

            His wife peels herself from his side on the couch and bustles over to the kitchen counter to retrieve her jingling phone.

            “Who is it?” Jensen calls over his shoulder, eyes still glued on the TV. He’s barely listening for her answer.

            “Vicki,” she says cheerily.

            “Huh,” Jensen snorts quickly, knowing that an hour of spiking the volume to drown out their cackling laughter is ahead of him.

            “Hey! What’s up?” Danneel’s voice trails as she heads down the hall and into their bedroom.

            Jensen rolls his eyes a little, giving a soft smile at the end. It makes him happy that she’s so close with everyone related to the show— even if they do end up calling at all hours of the night, often times, to plot against him in some way. _Vicki can be as bad as Jared with her pranks. No wonder Misha takes the abuse so well._ No, it’s good though, that Danneel gets along with everyone; not just the other wives, but his friends too. They're all a family now. Some days, Jared will even call just to talk to _her._ Jensen used to think that was weird when it first started happening; but now, it makes him happy. That giant goof acts like another one of Danneel’s girlfriends at times, and it takes the pressure off of _him_ to always be her listening ear.

            He slowly drones back into the 57 Thunderbird’s new, baby blue paint job; Chip Foose is currently piping on a thin, white pinstripe just below the chrome along the side, and Jensen wonders if he could try that sometime—he thinks he has pretty steady hands, _it might be fun._  As the show carries on, he barely notices how quiet the rest of the house has become. He doesn’t realize it until the commercials come on obnoxiously loud and he has to mute the TV to avoid his eardrums bleeding from  his skull; but that's when his wife’s hushed voice sings softly from the hall. Jensen feels the hairs on his neck salute. Having a kid solidified the knowledge, but it was getting introduced to Jared that taught him: silence usually means trouble when you’re expecting noise. Jensen soon slides off the couch and walks around to the mouth of the hall—stopping just at the edge, avoiding the creaky floor boards underfoot.

            “ _He seriously did it again_?”

            Danneel sounds shocked, but she’s still whispering, making him wonder who the “he” is and what exactly he did.

            “I know but ... _once_ is one thing, but this is like, what? _Three_ times now?”

            Jensen listens closer as his wife’s voice moves from disbelief into mildly concerned.

            “But seriously, Vick, all joking aside, are _you_ okay with that—I mean, are you going to talk to him about it?”

            Silence fills the air once more as she waits for her friend’s reply. And Jensen wants to know what the answer is too; moreover, what exactly _is_ the question.

            “Yeah, well your guys’ relationship has always been more … _free_ than the average, but you have to admit, _this_ is a little different ... even for you.”

            Now, he’s pretty sure this is regarding Misha— but why the secrecy? What did Misha do?  And more importantly, how can Jensen use it to torture him later?

            “ _Me_? I don’t know how I’d react if Jensen did that … I’d honestly, probably just laugh.”

 _Oh shit_. He’s getting roped into, _whatever this is_ somehow. Jensen leans in some more, straining his ear to hear through the door of their room, hoping that he might be able to catch bits of Vicki’s end of the conversation.

            “Yeah, well … it might be weird, but c’mon. You can’t honestly say you haven’t seen signs of it on Misha’s end. I know I sure as hell seen it over here.”

_Signs of what?_

            “No, I think I’m like you. It wouldn’t really bother me … I _think_ ... then again—it’s not happening to me. Well, _at least_ , not that I know of.”

            A quick silence slips in and then Danneel’s raucous laughter nearly blows him the back wall. 

            “ _Oh my god_ —you can’t put that image into my head!”

_What image?_

            “No! Not because of _that,_ but I might end up liking it!”

            More insane cackling nearly deafens the confused man.

            _“Yes,_ I’m serious! You’ve seen those two! Who _wouldn’t_ find that at least a little hot?”

  
            “ _What the hell?”_ Jensen spits, then immediately smacking his hand over his mouth. He had no intention of saying that out loud, none the less, at a fairly, audible level.

            His wife’s voice creeps into an indecipherable whisper and he knows he’s been heard. So Jensen quickly pads back to the couch, slowly turning the volume back up as to not arouse any more suspicion. He eventually hears their bedroom door open with a _click_ , just before Danneel waltzes knowingly into the living room. Jensen peeks over his shoulder at her, smiling a bit too hard when their eyes finally meet.

            “What did you hear?” Danneel asks with an annoyed, little smirk.

            “ _Hear_? Nothing, just watchin’ TV." Jensen chirps innocently. "Why’d ya ask?” And he knows he’s trying too hard, but honestly, at this point, _who cares?_

            “I know you heard some of what we were talking about, so how much _did_ you hear?”

            After another silent breath,  Jensen finally relents, because Danneel’s face is bordering on serious and he knows _lying_ will get him in far more trouble than some harmless eavesdropping, “Not much—enough to know Misha did something, and you’d be cool if I did that same _something._ Then you also think something else would be hot.”

            Danneel smiles devilishly and it makes him think she’s been taking lessons from Jared. “ _Oh, good._ So not much then.” And with that, she turns on her heels and heads back into their room.

***

            He waits patiently for his wife to come to bed. She seems to be taking extra-long brushing her teeth tonight. So she probably knows what’s waiting for her once she's done; and she wants to avoid the interrogation. When the bathroom door finally opens, Danneel emerges in some pink pajama pants and one of Jensen’s old t-shirts. She looks _good_ , as always.

            And as she crawls into bed, Jensen doesn't hesitate in scooting over to face her. “So, what _were_ you two talking about exactly?”

            Danneel rolls her eyes before giving him a look. “I can’t tell you, Vicki would kill me, and then Misha would kill her.” She grins knowingly, as if she already said too much.

            “Oh, _c’mon!_ Now you _have_ to tell me!” Jensen pleads but his wife only shakes her head at him before nestling lower beneath the covers. “Babe! _I promise_ , I won’t say shit to Misha! Scouts’ honor.”

            “You were never in scouts, Jensen.”

            “Actor’s honor.”

            “How do you think _that’s_ an improvement?” 

            Jensen huffs, finally reaching over to the woman’s side and tickling the soft part between her ribs—the quickest route to getting his way that he knows, “Baaabe! Tell me!”

            She squirms and squeals, knotting the sheets with her fidgeting, but he doesn't let up. “Damnit, Jen, _stop!_ ”

            But he just continues tickling her—quickly bounding into that “wrestle-mode” that all males default to when torturing their significant others.

            “Jen! _Stop it_! _Jensen_!” Danneel is laughing and gasping for breath during each onslaught of attacks. “ _Fine_! Stop! Fine, I’ll tell you! Just st-stop!”

            With a grin, Jensen pulls away, very proud with his victory.  But Danneel only catches her breath and eyes him angrily—a look that quickly fades as the information he so desperately wants to know, dances on her tongue.

            “Okay, so seriously, you _can_ _’t_ tell Jared this, and Misha can’t know that you know. You got it?”

            Jensen nods, practically shaking with excitement. “Yeah, yeah—sure.”

            “I mean it, Jensen! Not a word! And you need to promise not to freak out either.”

            _That_ makes him leans back, a little worried with what she means. _Why would I freak out?_ “Okay …”

            “Because Vicki doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal and I don’t either; ya know … no one can control what their brains come up with sometimes.”

            Now Jensen is thoroughly confused. “Okay, just _tell_ me.”

            Danneel sighs, but he swears, he can see an evil glint her eye. “Well, the last couple of weeks …”

            Jensen watches as his wife shifts in her spot, mussing up the bedding even more. “The last couple of weeks, _what?_ ” he urges, suddenly feeling slightly sick. 

            Danneel flashes him a slim, toothy grin. “The last couple of weeks ... Misha has been having wet dreams about you.”

 

 


	2. What She Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            “What?” Jensen isn’t sure what he was expecting her to say. He heard _her_ half of the conversation, he maybe had some ideas—but none of them were _that!_

“ _I know!_ When Vick first told me about it, I thought it was hilarious, but now, I’m starting to wonder ...”

            Jensen throws his wife a concerned look,  “Wonder _what?_ ”

            Danneel sneers wickedly, “You know …”

            “I can honestly say, I have no fucking clue.”

            Danneel then stares at the ceiling with a sigh, “You’re really going to make me say it?”

            Jensen second guesses himself. He doesn’t know what she’s alluding to but now, he’s pretty sure he _doesn’t_ want to hear it. He nods anyway.

            She exaggerates a slump, “That Misha, _ya know_ … I wonder if he like, _likes you._ ”

            Jensen barks out a laugh.

            _“What?”_ she whines, giving him a light smack on his arm.

            _“Likes_ me? What are you, a fan girl now? Since when do you read into stuff?”

            “I don’t know, it’s _plausible._ And this is pretty easy to read into.” Jensen watches his wife drift off into thought, far away from the reality he's living in. “I mean … he’s an interesting guy who likes to ‘experiment’ with new things; and we all know Vicki swings both ways. Maybe ... maybe Misha’s the same.” Her eyes then twinkle back to him, and Jensen can’t help but think she’s actually enjoying this.

            “He’s a weird, little dude, _sure_ —but he’s pretty devoted to Vicki. You’ve seen the way he looks at her.”

            _“Yeah,_ and I’ve seen the way he looks at _you_.”

             Jensen rolls his eyes again. “It’s probably just a misunderstanding.”

            “Grunting your name while jizzing in his sleep seems pretty self-explanatory to me.”

            A rugged burn smokes across his face. _Seriously?_  But just then, Danneel scoots closer to his side and nuzzles up against him, the way she always does when she wants something. _What the hell could she want involving this?_

            “So … what do'ya think?” she asks, kissing the sinewy curve of his neck.

            The touch sends shivers across his skin, but his brain is still nowhere near _the mood_. “What do you _mean_? I think that’s pretty, fucking weird.”

            “Really?” she asks, sliding her hand across the firm mounds of his chest.

            “Yeah … why? Don’t you?” but his eyes start to widen as he remembers what he heard her say before, and he cuts her off just as she starts to answer. _“Wait_ ... you were saying something would be _hot_ … is _this_ what you meant? You think _he_ and _I_ would be …”

            “Maybe …” she giggles against his throat, before biting at it playfully. Her hand then falls quickly to his lap, working its way underneath the waistband of his boxers.

            _“Jesus,_ this is really working you up, isn’t it?” Jensen grunts as she grabs onto the head of his cock.

            “ _Maybe_ …” she repeats, and in a blink of an eye, his wife is pushing him back onto the pillows and climbing over his body. She mounts herself against his hips and starts to grind, _slow—back_ and forth, until he’s humming just as much as she is. “I just can’t help but think about it … the two of you … all that muscle, all that testosterone. We know _he’d_ enjoy it …” Danneel whispers,  quickly bending down and licking the frame of Jensen’s collar bone, keeping one hand between them, working his cock into a gushing mess. “The only question is, _would you?_ ”

            Parts of his brain want to protest, but his wife is too experienced with his triggers. She has him perched on the edge in an embarrassingly short amount of time. And as she works him into blindness, she continues her narration, apparently careless whether he’s on board with it or not.

            “ _I_ think you’d enjoy it, especially if he knew how much you like it when someone bites your earlobes.” And with that, she moves up to nibble on the soft areas of his ears; and he immediately groans and arches into her hand as she continues to stroke him up and down. “Or, you would enjoy it if he moaned low and deep … showing you just how much he wants you, just how sexy he thinks you are.” She purrs breathily along his jaw, and grinds harder against his waist, causing his mind to retreat into the white hot flashes of delirium. “Or, if he stared at you with those big blue eyes … if he didn’t blink at all while you came. If he just _stared_ at you and made you watch him while he came too …”

            Something about his wife’s words, something about how she's talking, how she times her body and her strokes to marry her tone in perfect, sing-song beats—  _is_ hot. And it makes him struggle for a moment on the question … is he actually turned on by what she's _doing,_ or by what she's _saying?_ Or _both_? But he quickly gives up. He’s so close to coming now—and judging by the twitching smile on Danneel’s cheeks, she knows he is too. So she picks that very moment to stop and roll off of him,  but before be can complain,  Jensen sees her peeling off her pajama pants and he gets even harder. She's soon mounting him once more—this time, sliding herself down slowly onto his shaft. Jensen throws his head back and grasps at the sheets, amazed with how good she feels, how _wet._  Wet and ready. It’s been a while since he’s had her like this. Ever since JJwas born,   _well,_ Danneel hasn’t really been eager to get back to the _honeymoon_ phase. So Jensen is usually the one pushing and making all the moves; but to have _her_ taking the reins seems like a distant memory, and she’s finally wiping off the dust.

            “ _Yes baby,_ think about those eyes. Think about how he would feel around you.” She bounces on top of him, tightening herself with each pass, making his cock swell inside her. “Think about how much he wants you.”

            And in spite of himself,  he _does_ think about it. He shuts his eyes as she posts above him, both moments away from cumming—and he thinks about _Misha._ Those cobalt irises stare into his, just like she said they would. He feels the man’s stubble run across his cheek as he leans in to nibble at his ear. He feels his strong arms hold him down, and he cums. He cums hard until he’s groaning and grunting, punching the mattress with the sides of his fists. Soon enough,  he hears Danneel come undone on top of him as well, but he keeps his lids clasped tight. He wants to hold onto this feeling,  so he rides out the crashing waves of his pleasure, fully engulfed in the image of that mess of dark hair and blue, working him over into nothingness.

 


	3. Trail Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

           He wakes up nearly three hours later. That orgasm knocked him out cold. He can’t recall the last time he was that far gone after sex. _It's been a while_. After another minute,  he rubs his eyes sleepily and looks over to Danneel. She doesn’t seem much better off—her hair is tangled across her face and she’s still naked from the waist down. The sight makes him smile, a little proud of himself for causing the woman to look so wrecked; that is … until he remembers what _actually_ happened. His stomach drops. Did he _really_ just get off while thinking about _Misha_? _No, no … it wasn’t like that._ He tries to reason with himself. He did after all, have Danneel on top of him. She was riding him like a canyon donkey. He came because of _that._ That _had_ to be the reason _… right_?

            Misha’s eyes flutter back into his mind, and his cock twitches a little. _What the actual fuck?_ He _cannot_ be doing this. Not only is he not gay—he’s a fucking Texas boy! Long horn blood runs through his veins for Christ’s sake! He can’t be proving millions of fan girl’s right! He just _can’t!_ He groans before rolling to his side to slide off the bed, and his hip bones throb with the movement. Danneel’s clamping knees really did a number while she was on top of him. _Damn, she was into that._ Jensen then pushes himself upright and scrubs his hand over his face. He sighs a bit as he looks back at his wife—a tiny, oblivious smile is curled onto her lips. He’s happy she’s so happy and relaxed, but _really? She’s into fucking Cockles now?_ And if she is—and if he came while she was talking about it all hot and heavy, what does that mean for _him?_

 

***

            It was a Cas-centered episode, _thank god!_ Jensen wasn’t really needed much on set, and when he was, his scenes were all “phone” bits—so face to face time with Misha wasn’t actually necessary. So in the mean time, Jensen drowns himself in some more mindless TV. He hasn’t been able to concentrate all day. He attempted to run his lines but he would just fade off into the residual confusion of the other night.  His trailer, however, is warm and cozy; a nice contrast to the icy Canadian weather just outside the door, and it relaxes him some. He knows that he’s far away from any lingering looks of blue, piercing eyes, or digging questions from Danneel. She’s back in Texas, probably taking JJ to baby-water aerobics or some other weird thing. It’s hilarious ... whenever she sends him pictures of their little girl participating in a new, forced activity … the child always looks miserable. _She learned that from her daddy_.

            A knock on the door wipes the content smile off his face, and Jensen grumbles while dragging himself out of his recliner. He was finally thinking about something else, and here comes some set-staff, trying to mess it all up for him. Jensen quickly yanks open the door, wearing a look that would probably scare the piss out of any nervous kid who happened to be working that day.

            “Hey! _Jesus_ … what crawled up your ass and died?” Misha laughs, swiftly climbing up the steps and pushing past him.

            Jensen’s face contorts from anger into pure fear with all the ease of an acrobat.

            “ _Uhh_ …”

            “So why're you hiding out in here? I haven’t seen you on set all day.” Misha plops onto his small couch, a bottled Starbucks Frappuccino already in his hand. Jensen’s fridge is always stocked with the good stuff.

            “ _Uhh_ …”

            “Oh, I heard Vick talking to Danneel the other night. They certainly were ribbing each other over something. I tried to get her to spill, but she wouldn’t. Did Dani tell you anything?”

            “ _Umm_ …”

            “ _Good god_ , we are just a master of wits today, aren’t we? _Seriously,_ what’s wrong with you?” The blue eyed man stares at him, obviously, still in character because his head is tilted to the side and he won’t blink to save his life. Jensen’s cock jumps again.

            “ _Uh, well_ …” He fidgets his fingers inside the pockets of his jeans, trying to look anywhere but straight into his friend's face.

              And it makes Misha begin to look concerned. “ _Really_? Are you okay?"

             Jensen bounces his head quickly with a nod, seeming far too nervous over such a simple question.

            "Oh _fuuuck_!” Misha growls and Jensen flinches a little with the noise.

            He stares at the seated man and watches as he finally turns away towards the other side of the trailer.

            “You know, don’t you?”

            “ _Uhh_ …”

            “I’m going to fucking _kill_ Vicki!”

            Jensen continues to stare at the man, feeling his palms pool with sweat.

            “I knew she was going to blab about it to someone, but _Danneel_? Damnit!”

            Jensen then watches as Misha slowly locks him back into view—and he swears, the guy looks just as scared as he feels.

            “It really isn’t anything. _I swear_ … I think it’s just all these conventions, and … you know how I like to fuck with the fans about the ships. It was bound to bite me in the ass at some point.” Misha seems to plead understanding through his skin, his hair, everything—and he quickly inches forward in his seat, as if to will his words into Jensen’s ears.

             But Jensen can still only nod.

            “Really, I swear, it’s not a big deal. _Please_ forget it while I go call my wife and tell her I’m divorcing her and sending her ass to India.”

            Jensen nods _again_ and it makes Misha sigh heavily, before pulling himself from the couch and shuffling by Jensen,  towards the trailer door. He watches as his dark haired friend seems to sink with each ste, and it makes Jensen feel completely guilty. After all—they’re just dreams. The guy can’t help what they turn into. Besides, he has a point. Every day, they're surrounded by “Cockles this” and “Destiel that”, plus, Jared is always the first to show them painfully detailed fan art whenever he comes across some. Jensen is honestly surprised that the images haven’t popped into _his_ head during the night. No,  he can’t blame Misha, and the guy certainly shouldn’t feel weird for what his subconscious does. Now, _Jensen_ on the other hand, has no excuse for what happened. He was in perfect control over his waking brain the other night. Well … as much control as Danneel was going to let him have. Honestly, they both are pretty innocent here when he thinks about it. They should be fine—this shouldn’t be weird. He needs to stop making this so weird.

            “Mish! Hey, hold up” Jensen yips, quickly bounding down the stairs after his buddy, leaving the trailer door to slam behind him. “Hey, _sorry—I_ know this isn’t a big deal. Really, you just surprised me and I’m all jet lagged from the flight in last night. We’re totally cool.” He waits, smiling when he sees Misha’s face light up, the way it always does whenever they talk with one another.

            _“Yeah?”_

            “Yeah, man. _Really—s’all_ good.”

            Misha still looks unsure, but relieved all the same. “Okay ...  _good._ ”

            Jensen smiles at him, perhaps a little bigger than necessary, but seeing those little crinkles form around the man’s eyes always makes him grin like an idiot. No matter what, he knows he _does_ love the guy. Not in the gay-way, of course; but he does love him.

            “Well, I need to get back to set, but … I’ll see you later?” Misha asks, a hopeful updraft to his voice.

            “Yeah, _yeah—totally.”_

            Misha smiles once again, letting deep, happy dimples crack into his cheeks. He then lifts his arms up, open _—_ in the hopes of a hug.  And Jensen immediately obliges, pulling his friend in close and rubbing his back with a soft palm ... as he often does. Misha chuckles as be wraps around him tight, and soon, Jensen feels every muscle in the guy’s arms flex against his ribs. And that's when all the blood in his body begins rushing towards his waist. His jeans seem to shrink two sizes before he can even comprehend what's going on; but Misha doesn’t let go, and Jensen doesn’t want to pull away. _I should probably pull away_. Yet,  both of them stay locked in place, arms linking their bodies into one. Jensen bulges some more, and soon enough, his cock  is throbbing against the zipper of his Levis.

            _Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay well, this is turning out longer than expected (what a surprise!) Hope y'all are ready for an epic novel full of Cockles ... because that's apparently what you're getting!


	4. Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

           If Mish did feel him _pop up_ , the guy didn’t say anything about it; and Jensen thanks every god, spirit and deity out there for _that_ one. He can’t just say something is fine—totally _not weird_ —completely normal, and then get a raging boner to contradict every single word. Hopefully, if Misha felt it —a thought that makes Jensen want to slither out of his own skin—he took it as something just as unpredictable as his own dreams. Hopefully he knew that it was something Jensen couldn’t control, and now they’re both wrapped into this awkward fight between mind and crotch.

            Jensen’s flight back home seemed unbearably long. He hadn’t spoken with Danneel the whole time he was at work, except for some texts here and there. She updated him on JJ, or reminded him of various plans and events coming up that they needed to attend. It was normal— _too normal_  considering everything that had just occurred; and now he thinks that something horribly uncomfortable is waiting for him back home. He’s partially scared he’ll walk in and his wife will be donning one of those freaky _Mishapocolypse_ masks—all geared up for a disturbing version of roleplay. Or, he’ll come in and she'll be ears-deep in a computer, reading all that exceedingly graphic fan fiction that’s out there. Or … it'll be something even worse, and he can’t even hazard to guess what that might be.

            His driver drops him off at his front door and as he gets out, he's surprised to see that the house seems perfectly normal. Danneel hasn’t trimmed the hedges into homo-erotic scenes of him and Misha yet—so _that’s_ good. He soon makes his way inside, closing the door softly behind him before setting down his bags.

            “Babe? I’m back!” he yells to the quiet house, but no one responds, and he feels his heart start to quicken in his chest. _She’s reading fan fiction. I just know it!_  “Babe?”

            “ _What_? Jen, is that you?” His wife’s voice surprises him when it comes from the garage  and not their bedroom or the office down the hall. Soon, Danneel is rounding the corner and popping into view. Her hair is tied back and she’s wearing her ratty, house-work shirt. There are some mystery smudges on her forearms and her skin is glowing with a thin veil of sweat. “Sorry, I was cleaning out that corner in the garage … _ya know_ , since _someone_ never seems to get around to it,” she hisses playfully.

            Jensen feels his shoulders relax at the utter normalcy of the situation. There’s his wife, looking dirty and beautiful—sending him on a guilt trip over things he’s been too busy to do … _yes, everything’s okay_. “I know, I know … sorry. I’ve just been busy, ya know,  _providing_ for you, feeding our child, making sure this roof stays over our heads so you actually have a garage to bitch about—I'm a terrible husband.”

            She smiles at him before leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. After she does, she gives him a quick smack on the ass and then turns back to her work in the garage. “I’m glad you’re finally seeing that! I should really start looking for a better man.”

            Jensen huffs a little, but smiles as he watches his wife disappear around the corner. “Yeah, well … it’s a good thing I’ve set the bar so low.”

            “Sure is!” she calls back.

***

            Two weeks passed and Misha’s dreams and their strange night of love-making were never brought up. Even during the times that he heard Vicki and Danneel talking on the phone, the conversations sounded normal enough. And when he talked to Misha, the guy joked and laughed about all other things … but left the obvious issue in the dark. He didn’t even give credence to the fact that it was being avoided. All in all, in all the ways this whole mess could've played out, this is turning out to be the best possible outcome.

 

            Jensen heads back to work after an enjoyable, little break. He got to spend a lot of time with JJ, doing normal, everyday dad-things. He took her to the park around the corner from their house. He met up with Jared, and all three of their kids ran around, played and gave him happy memories to cling to for the time being. He got to go to the store, get groceries … something that is so simple, but still, very satisfying when he gets to do it without the focus of the world on him. Overall, the whole _wet dream_  mess didn’t really mess up much of anything. He’s surprised, but extremely grateful.

 

            Back on set, the normalcy continues. He talks to Carver about directing another episode, and he teams up with Jared to mercilessly torture Misha. He even had a couple prolonged moments of physical contact with the guy without anything stirring downstairs. No surprise boners ... no dirty thoughts. Jensen could practically _forget_ to even worry about it at times. And Jared didn’t seem at all aware of his nerves either—which is actually, pretty shocking. The guy is so intuitive. At one point during Danneel’s pregnancy, they had a little scare, and it only took two seconds of seeing Jensen’s face for Jared to pull him off set and ask him what was wrong. Thankfully, it was all a false alarm, but Jared was still somehow aware of every thought that ran through Jensen's head. Right now however, he doesn’t seem to sense that something strange occurred, or he just doesn't feel the need to act on it.   _No,_ he just did his usual thing … pulling pranks and making horrible, horrible jokes. _God,_ Jen _sen_  loves that guy!

             After they finished the day's scene,  he makes his way back to his condo. It’s a nice place, but it never really feels like home, not unless Danneel comes up with him, and the small rooms fill with JJ’s laughter—then, the place is perfect.  After he parks and heads upstairs,  he puts his keys into the door and cracks it open, fussing with his duffle bag and laptop case as the straps slip off his shoulders and make him fumble inside.

            “Hey sweetie!”

            Danneel’s voice shocks him, causing Jensen to drop his laptop on his foot. _“Woah!_ What're _you_ doing here?”

            His wife grins grandly, rushing over to pick up his stuff before collecting him in a hug. “I thought I’d surprise you. You seemed really down when you left yesterday.”

            “Yeah, well, it always sucks to go just when things start to ease up … but you didn’t have to come all the way up here just because I was moody,” he laughs, leaning down to give his wife a kiss. She kisses him back—a little harder than he's expecting, but he doesn’t mind it at all. They hang there a moment, letting their tongues explore one another. It’s sweet—she tastes like mint and contentment.

            “I did it for me too, I missed you.”

            Jensen's eyes arch in happy curves. He loves when Danneel misses him. It makes him feel special ... worthwhile. “I missed you too … where’s JJ? Is she sleeping?”

            “Oh, no … she’s not here. I left her at your mom’s. She'd been pestering me to bring her by, so I thought a weekend with grandma would be fun for the both of them.”

            He laughs with the thought of that. His mom is probably over the moon right now—and poor little JJ is probably getting put into a thousand different outfits, and she’ll hate every single one of them. _My_ _sweet, baby girl._ He then looks back down to his wife, feeling her hands rub soft, eager circles into his back. Their daughter immediately fades from his thoughts as he notices the hungry look in Danneel’s eyes. Jensen knows that look, it’s his _favorite_ look. He tosses his bags off to the side and kicks the door shut behind him, scooping his wife up in the process. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him deeply once more.  So Jensen allows his hand to slide beneath her shirt, soaking up the feeling of her soft, flawless skin.

            “I'm so, damn happy you’re here,” he whispers, kissing her again and again.

            “ _Me too_ … but _babe,_ we can’t do this now.”

            Jensen stops and looks at her, finally setting her down when he sees that she’s serious.

            “What? Why not?” he whines, hoping that the reason is one that he can convince her to dismiss.

            “Because, we’re about to have dinner guests and I’m sure they wouldn’t want to walk in on us _doing it._ ”

            “Guests? _Who_?” Jensen asks, feeling a little pull in his gut—he’s nervous all of a sudden.

            Danneel smiles. A knock on the door turns her smile into a beaming grin and soon, she's pulling at the brass handle and letting their guests inside. Vicki’s glowing face emerges past the door, followed by Misha—looking happy, but just as confused as Jensen is.

            “Hey guys! Thanks for coming!” Danneel exclaims, wrapping Vicki in a hug.

            “Of course! We're so happy that we can do this!” Vicki laughs.

            Jensen smiles at her as she then walks up to him, arms wide, waiting for another embrace. He obliges, still feeling a little awkward that he just went from extremely turned on-husband, to dinner host in all of 2.3 seconds. Misha follows closely behind his wife, waiting for his turn to get a hug. When he gets it, Jensen is extremely happy to feel _nothing_ happening below his belt.

            “So, this was ...  _unexpected_ ,” Misha muses, taking post right next to Jensen's side. They watch their wives disappear into the kitchen, talking about the flight, the kids—basically having forty different conversations at once.

            “I know, right? Danneel just showed up here. Not that I mind, but she usually tells me if she’s coming.”

            “Yeah. Vicki just appeared as well. I got back to my place and she was sitting in the middle of the living room, meditating. I had to wait twenty minutes before I could even ask her why she was there.”

            Jensen laughs at how normal Misha makes that sound. Of course, for them, that _is_ totally normal. _God, he’s weird._ “So … dinner?”

            “Guess so,” Misha says, still looking towards the kitchen. “What are we having?”

            Jensen laughs. “Hell if I know. I was getting ready to order a pizza just before I walked in to find my wife here.”

            As if on cue, the two women emerge, holding cups in their hands—four altogether. They walk up to the men and hand them each a half-full glass of bourbon. Vicki’s glass contains the same, but Jensen thinks Danneel’s is probably a rum and coke. She was never a bourbon-girl. Misha tosses him a concerned look before taking a sip of his drink. Jensen mirrors him, not wanting to look too closely at his wife. He’s afraid of what he might see there. The last few weeks of concern and nerves rush back to him in a tidal wave. Suddenly, the giddy glances the women are giving each other are all too suspicious. He can almost hear the wheels turning inside their heads. Vicki turns to him and grins even wider, before giving Jensen a look that makes him feel like the appetizer to this surprise meal. He quickly turns to Misha for help, but he just sees his friend, gulping hard on the last bits of his drink.

            “ _So_ …” Jensen finally says, needing to break this deadly silence.

            “Anyone need refills?” Danneel chirps, grabbing Misha’s empty glass before he can even nod _yes._

             So Jensen chugs the last few drops of his, finally placing the dry tumbler into his wife’s eager hand. In a breath, the two women are gone again—giggling and whispering to one another in overly hushed voices. It makes his palms sweat and his gut roil against the toxic liquor. Jensen finally looks back to his best friend, who is fidgeting next to him and seeming just as wary.

            After another few seconds, Misha sighs, eventually lifting his hand the side of his head to rub at his temple. “Well, that wasn’t fucking suspicious at all.”


	5. Drinking Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

           Four glasses later and still, _no dinner_ — but Jensen is feeling surprisingly good, even though he's still hungry. Misha seems to be in high spirits as well. If people think the guy is a crazy fucker on an average day, they should see him when he’s smashed. Right now, he’s in the middle of the kitchen, playing a game of twister all by himself. He’s using the floor tiles as the board and is spinning a bottle of ranch dressing around to tell him where to move. Vicki is laughing hysterically and Danneel is just _drunk_ —looking happy but fairly confused by everything that's going on.

            “You should play with him, Jensen!” Vicki suddenly bursts, eyeing him from across the bar.

            Jensen smiles and shakes his head,  wanting to just stay where he's sitting,  watching the madness.  _“Nah,_ I think he’s got this one covered.”

            But Misha overhears them and pulls himself upright a bit, still sprawled out across the floor, straining to keep his fingertips touching the corner of a green tile. _“C’mon, Jen._ We all know _I’m_ bendy ... let’s see about you!” His words are a little slurred and he begins laughing at himself just as he starts to lose his balance.

            Jensen smiles and chuckles too— _this is a weird, fucking night._

            “Babe! Play with him!” Danneel finally chimes in, looking like she’s actually waking up to the world. She then climbs off her seat and waddles over to yank at Jensen's arm; and he gives in all too easily to her touch. In a moment, he’s following her around the bar to the kitchen to where their friend is spread wide. Misha stares up at him from the floor, spinning the bottle blindly just as they come to a stop, finally looking down when it starts to slow.

            “Left foot, white!” he pips, scooting over to let Jensen slide in beside him.

            Jensen rolls his eyes before peering towards his wife, wanting permission _not to_ play, but Danneel over exaggerates a pouty face and then pushes him down towards the ground. Jensen finally concedes, plopping to the floor in front of Misha. “So, how are we playing this if there’s only three tile colors?”

            Misha grins and giggles deliriously—making Jensen wonder if the guy had time to sneak away and smoke something at some point too; he seems _way_ too giddy just to be _drunk_. “You just reach for the closest white and green ones” he eventually says,  as if that actually answers Jensen's question.

            But as they begin to play,  he realizes that the pattern on his condo’s floor actually makes reaching the next white tile, rather difficult. So Jensen stretches out his leg, propping himself up onto his hands, gliding hid body alongside Misha’s to eventually touch the one in front of the oven.

           Misha smiles and then spins the bottle again. “My turn! _Okay_ , right hand, green!” and with that, he snakes his arm between Jensen’s to a green tile that’s residing just below his freckled chin. Misha’s face is now only an inch away from his, and Jensen feels his friend's breath tumble onto his neck. Goosebumps race down his legs, eventually giving a little surge in his jeans. _Fuck! Not again!_ Jensen looks up in a panic,  eyes scanning for his wife, hoping she'll give him an _out._   But when he spots her,  he sees that Vicki has since joined her, watching closely as the men tangle together on the ground. Their eyes look dark, and they both seem far more sober than they did only moments ago.

            “Good job, hun!” Vicki says, and her voice is deeper somehow—something sinister burning the edges of her tone.

            Misha seems to just carry on, oblivious to the inner turmoil that Jensen is suffering. “Dani, can you spin for me? I'm a little tied up as you can see.”

            Danneel nods enthusiastically before reaching down and spinning the bottle, stepping back immediately afterwards to let Misha look at where it lands. He’s the only one who knows the system—but Jensen suspects he’s just making it up as he goes. The bottle really doesn’t play a role.

            “Right foot, green!” Misha laughs again, filling Jensen’s lungs with his air.

            And Jensen can taste the liquor on the man’s breath. His jeans get _tighter._

            “Jensen, _that’s you_. It’s your turn” Misha says, nudging him with his elbow to get his attention. Jensen snaps back into the moment and nods, looking all around, straining to see below and above his friend’s body—finally finding another green tile on the other side of Misha’s knees. He sighs heavily while twisting his body so that his right leg can slip underneath the other man; and just as he touches the square, Misha shifts until he's practically lying on-top of him.

            “Spin it, Dani!” Misha yells after they both steady themselves, getting far too into his made-up game.

            And poor Jensen can only sweat beneath him. He can smell Misha’s skin, see his heart thrum the veins in his neck ... he feels impossibly close to those blue eyes; and he can’t help but love how they shine, even through the glassy haze of _drunk._

            Some movement to their right catches his eye and Jensen cranes his neck to see Danneel bending down once more to spin the bottle. But this time,  she gives him a knowing glance— like she can smell the arousal on him.

            Misha cranes his neck as well, but only to look at where the bottle stops. “Left hand, white!” He then reaches over Jensen's shoulder, shifting his weight until his arms are trapping his neck. Jensen adjusts below his friend, teetering a bit atop his own palms before finally losing balance and collapsing to the floor. Misha hangs on a second longer, grinning hard with his victory, before finally falling directly on top of the man beneath him. Their chests clash with a _thud_ and he hears Vicki erupt in a gasping laugh before a silence eventually falls across the room. Misha props himself up onto his hands, still grinning until he turns his leg—which happens to rest right against Jensen’s throbbing denim- cloaked cock. The man's blue eyes quickly expand, attempting to take purchase of his entire face. They both stay still, not moving, too drunk to really understand what’s happening or what they should do about it.

           All is still for a long while,  so Jensen jumps when he hears his wife breathe slow, calculated words skilfully into his ear. “What do you think about his dreams now, baby?”

            Jensen aches with the sound, and he watches as it makes Misha’s breath hitch in his chest. He wants to look away from the man’s face, but he can’t. He’s the one staring unblinkingly at those giant, sapphire eyes now—not the other way around. Misha then glances between him and Danneel, seeming slightly lost, but an understanding begins to be pull him back in with every long second that passes.

              And that's when Vicki moves around the bodies coating the floor, soon gliding down to join them. She then tilts in close to her husband and whispers something into his ear that Jensen can’t quite make out. But whatever it was causes Misha to swallow hard and lick his lips.

            “Jen, baby … how do you feel?” Danneel purrs, still loud enough for everyone else to hear.

            “ _Uhh_ …” Jensen stammers, looking just as his wife drags her eyes along the length of his frame, stopping and narrowing when she gets to where Misha and him are connected.

           Danneel grins. “It looks like you’re feeling _good_.”

            He can’t talk. His mouth is inexplicably dry and his throat seems to be closing with each of his strangled breaths. Misha finally focuses back on him, steadying those blues on the greens below. Their wives exchange their own pointed glances before sliding their hands across their husbands’ shoulders, feeling more forceful as their stare carries on.

            “Do you want to touch him, Jensen?” And the question sends a shock through his bones. Jensen stops breathing altogether now. He balls his fists at his sides, afraid that they might answer for him. In his drunken blur, he can’t quite comprehend what his body is doing, or _wants_ to do.

            “Do _you_ want him to touch you, Misha?” Vicki asks, wrapping her arms around the man’s neck while leaning in and licking his ear. Jensen watches as his friend’s eyes close and he shivers on top of him. After a moment more, he sees the man nod.

            “Go ahead, babe ... touch him if you want to” Danneel offers, and Jensen immediately feels his hands rise, as if they were just set free from chains. They then slide up Misha’s sides, over his hips until they get to the bottom of his ribcage. Jensen watches in terrified awe as his own fingers dance along his friend’s back, finally flattening across his spine and pulling him down so their chests are flush once more. Misha's eyes burst open with the drop—instantly staring hard into Jensen’s.

            “Do you like feeling him on top of you, baby?” Danneel hums, stroking the side of his face with nimble fingers.

            It’s Jensen’s turn to nod. He’s barely even present anymore—his body is doing all the work for him and his mind is just on the sidelines, watching everything go down. He soon feels Misha relax beneath his hands, seeming eased a little with Jensen's response.

            “What do you want to do now, Misha?” Vicki asks, still clinging to her husband’s neck. Misha clears his throat, letting out another, heavy gust of air; and Jensen watches eagerly as his friend’s pupils dilate, feeling the heat suddenly grow between their hips; in a moment, something hard presses against him, gliding ever so slightly across his own rigid pleasure.

            “I—I …” Misha stutters, leaning in closer to Jensen’s mouth.

            “I think he wants you to kiss him, babe.” Danneel sips, licking the air with her words.

             The suggestion forces Jensen to exhale, nearly choking as he does. He gazes up at Misha, noticing  now how cleanly his stubble defines his jaw, while also taking in just how long his neck is ... _so long_. _So many places to lick_.

             Vicki slowly pulls away; but as she moves, she reveals the tight skin that pulls across her husband’s collar bone, and Jensen licks his lips.  His friend then pushes down further into his body— nodding, agreeing with Danneel’s observation. Soon, Jensen's hands are sliding up to the base of the man’s neck, giving their own permission for him to bring their mouths within a breath of one another; although,  Misha stops just before their lips can touch.

            “Is this okay?” he asks, sounding more sober than he actually is.

             But Jensen doesn’t nod, he doesn’t talk—he only lifts his head up, filling the gap between them with the skin of his lips and the slick of his tongue.


	6. Rats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            
           The wives pull back, slipping out of the kitchen while their husbands make out furiously on the floor. Jensen feels them leave, but it only seems to ease his thoughts. The moment is just _theirs_ now—just him and his best friend … a best friend who he happens to be kissing. The alcohol warming his muscles makes gripping onto Misha’s skin _that_ much easier. Then the man shifts a little, moving his leg the rest of the way across Jensen’s body to straddle him. For a moment, the kiss is broken and he stares up at those crazed blues, wondering for all the world, what is going on behind them?  _Is this just the booze? Is this his subconscious letting loose? What the hell is this going to change? What about the show? What about Jared? What the hell are our wives doing during all of this?_ He’s tempted to turn his head to seek the women out, wondering if they’re having _their own_ fun … his cock throbs harder.

             But his curiosity is cut short when Misha drops back down, slipping his hands up to cup Jensen’s face; and the touch seems too tender for the drunken grope-fest, but it doesn’t necessarily feel _wrong._ Misha then kisses him again, this time, not so furiously, but he pauses just as Jensen begins to melt into him for a second time.

            “We should probably stop this,” Misha says breathlessly.

            Jensen doesn’t respond, but something resembling a whimper escapes his throat.

            “I mean— _I_ need to stop this. You don’t know just how far I could go right now, and I don’t think you want to find out.”

            Jensen feels a jab in his stomach. His lungs push up against his ribs as he starts to panic, but he’s not really sure _why_ yet. “I, _uhh_ … I don’t think I’d mind” he whispers, letting his fingers walk down to the seam of Misha’s shirt, vying for a little bit of time beneath it.

            Misha smiles at him, pulling himself upright, now gliding his hands away from Jensen's freckled jaw. “ _Not now_ , maybe; but what about in the morning? What about when that bourbon is out of your system? _C’mon, Jensen_ , you know we haven’t really thought this through. What about the show?”

  
            Jensen listens as his friend replays what was just going through his own head … and for some reason, it makes him wants to kiss the guy even more. “I—I don’t know.”

            “ _Exactly_ " Misha sighs while shaking his head  "This was _not_ a very well planned experiment” he grumbles a second later, finally lifting up so he can rub the back of his neck.

            _“What?”_ Jensen mumbles once he registers what Misha had actually said, wondering just how drunk the guy still is; but his friend’s words seemed quite clear.

            Misha slowly rounds his eyes—his mouth falling open a bit as he raises his head to look towards the living room ... like he’s trying to find help.

            “What do you mean, _experiment?_ ” The word bounces violently in his head, and it's making him dizzy.  Jensen slowly pulls his body up, feeling his erection quickly die.

            “Oh, _uh, well_ …” Misha stammers some more, still looking towards the other room.

            Jensen inhales sharply, gnawing on his next words, when his wife suddenly chimes in. “Babe, don’t be mad!”

            “Did you guys—  _plan_ this?” Jensen hisses, turning to meet Danneel’s gaze as she shuffles back into the kitchen, with Vicki close in tow.

            “Well, we … umm, _sort of_ …” His wife looks to the ground and begins pulling at her fingertips—something she always does when she’s nervous or feeling guilty, and he knows which one _this_ is.

            “And _you_?” Jensen turns his glare back to Misha, who's still partially on top of him. “You were involved?” His volume elevated, shaking the thinning air in the kitchen. “ _Them_ … them I get! I had a feeling when you guys all showed up here that those two were plotting something, but _you_?”

            Misha ducks his head in shame, lips bouncing on words that won’t move past their ridges.

            Jensen soon feels a whole new heat bubble inside his body. He had honestly thought that Vicki would be implementing some sort of plan. The moment she came through his door and eyed him like he was a stone for her to chisel, he knew it was going to be a weird night; and the fact that Danneel was in on _it—well,_ still, not really “a shocker”. _But Mish_? The guy acted just as lost as he was. He acted like he was being hacked at and molded too. _He acted_ … he acted without a set around him. Without cameras. That wasn’t fair! That wasn’t right at all! Not after all this time. Not after how close they’ve become. Jensen said he loved the guy, and lying here now, feeling a little used and very betrayed, he _knows_ that’s true. He does love him—maybe … maybe even a little more than friends or brothers; which makes this suck _that_ much more.

            Jensen quickly scrambles to his feet, knocking Misha over with his frenzy. Danneel grabs at his hand but he rips it away. He honestly isn’t that mad at her—even though, he probably should be; but he _has_ to get away from his best friend right now.  With one final huff, he charges past Vicki and turns into the hall on the other side of the kitchen; and in a few short steps, he’s in his room, slamming the door behind him. As he lets go of the handle,  he can hear Danneel on the other side, probably wanting to knock, but she doesn’t. She knows better than that. She knows that when he’s angry, all Jensen needs is time and space. It’s one of the many characteristics he shares with Dean. After a few more moments,  his wife's footsteps retreat back to the kitchen where other hushed voices soon chime in with her own. There’s a panic in the middle of it all— and Misha’s low rumble carries more clearly than the rest.  With strained ears, Jensen listens as his friend talks a mile a minute, grumbling at his wife, asking her why she talked him into all this. He hears his best friend spit and curse, making each filthy word sound smart and poignant; in the way that only Misha can manage.  Jensen listens until he can't listen anymore,  so he walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, swaying with the commotion outside. And as he rubs his hands over his face—still smelling Misha along his skin, he hears his best friend say his name, and he swears, the man has never sounded so sad.

***

            Danneel slept on the couch last night. She didn’t even try to come into the room after Misha and Vicki left. She was probably still too drunk to argue her case, so she went to sleep instead, hoping for the best in the morning. When Jensen woke up after the long and fitful night, he instantly checked his phone … wondering why there were no missed calls or texts. Wondering even more, why the lack of anything made his heart drop to his knees. He wants to be mad still—hell, he’d even settle for horribly disappointed; but instead, all he can feel is sadness. He feels lonely for the first time in years. He feels like the only person out there that he can still really talk to is Jared, but there’s no way he’s going to involve _him_ in all this. This wasn’t some prank that went wrong. It wasn’t a harmless joke. His best friend, his wife, and a woman who he sees as a sister— all came together to test him! He was a lab rat last night and they built up the maze around his ears. Worst of all, Misha acted like he was a rat too, when really, he was just another set of gloved hands, ready to poke and prod. It wouldn’t be so bad if he could just blame the booze … but this had been something that spanned much further than last night's antics. This was weeks in the making. He isn’t even sure if Misha was really surprised when Jensen found out about his dreams. He could have been acting then too—he could've never actually _had_ the dreams! _Who knows?_ Jensen begins getting angry again with the realization. _Just how far back did this thing go? Was any of it true? What the hell was the end game here?_

***

            He got to set early, not wanting to run into Misha in the make-up trailer. Once he's done getting dolled up for the next scene, he pushes himself directly into Dean-mode. Everything would be fine, because, _well_ … he is going to _act_ like it is. He'll joke with Jared so the guy doesn’t think something is _too_ wrong, but when it comes to Misha—it’ll be all business.

            The first scene is just a BM, so Misha is still in wardrobe. Jared is running through his lines and Jensen finds it’s pretty easy to immerse himself completely in the Supernatural-world. _Everyone I trust isn’t really living up to my expectations? Having to pretend that I'm okay even when I'm falling apart? Not telling Sam/Jared something really important that's currently wrecking me … yep, sounds like Supernatural._   In spite of his superb acting job however, Jared keeps asking him if he’s alright between takes. Jensen just smiles and says he had a lot to drink last night and that seems good enough for the guy to believe. _Jet lag plus a hangover is a bitch_ , and even better—it’s not really a lie.

            When the time for their scene with Misha rolls around, Jensen starts to fidget in place. Tom is the director for the episode and he’s quickly losing his patience with Jensen squirming off his mark and into Jared's coverage every five minutes. He tries to hold still after being yelled at half a dozen times, but he can't focus. Somehow though, Jared finally gets through his take and then it’s Misha’s turn. Thankfully, the scene calls for Dean to be aggravated with Cas—so  _acting_ isn’t really necessary. He let's himself seethe, churning the air around the set into a toxic mush.  He can tell Misha feels it, knowing what everyone else doesn't—that his friend isn't pretending. So the man only makes eye contact when the script calls for it; but as soon as Tom yells "cut", Misha is off grabbing water or running to the bathroom. Jared finally starts to sense the tension by the third time he sees their co-star scurry away like a frightened mouse; but thankfully, he knows Jensen well enough not to ask what's going on while their all in the middle of a scene.

            They get the shots in after only a few takes, and Jensen feels like a truck has been lifted off of him when he finally gets to go off set. Jared has to stay and do some soul-searching scenes on his own, so his curious inquiries will have to wait— and Jensen couldn't be any more relieved. Of all the episodes to be filming while this shit happening, he's pretty lucky that _this_ is the one to be shot today. He barely had any screen time with Misha, and since the focus is mainly on Sam, Jared is being kept busy and won’t be asking him many questions. Jensen soon hurries back to his trailer, quickly heading inside and locking the door behind him. The last thing he needs is someone walking in when he’s in the middle of coming undone. He honestly can't tell if he wants to scream or let one of Dean’s _single-man tears_ roll down his cheek. Either way, he feels defeated. He feels burnt out and built up to the point where he can barely function. After a semi-calming breath, he stomps over and plops down into his recliner, reaching over for the remote so he can lose himself in some crap shows, not wanting to spend anymore time scrambling in his own head. But as he lifts his hand to turn on his TV, he _sees it_ —an envelope taped to the front of his flat screen, right where it knows it’ll be seen. Scrawled across the paper, in neat, tightly wound handwriting, is his name.


	7. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

Jensen,

          I know it is horribly childish of me to be writing you a letter. I should be confronting you. I should have called last night to explain. I wanted to, but Vicki advised against it and I think she was right in doing so. I was still two sheets to the wind and I'm sure you were no better off. I did speak to Dani this morning after you had left for set, and she said that you weren’t talking to her. I want you to know, beyond everything else, she had the least to do with this. Not to throw my own wife under the bus, but this was her brainchild. I'm sure you're wondering where all this started and I feel, you are owed that explanation. It may be the only way for you to understand how this snowballed into what it did; not that that makes any of this better, but hopefully, in time, it will allow you to forgive me.

            When I had those dreams, I was caught off guard. I told Vicki in jest, thinking that she would find them as funny as I told myself they were. She laughed at first, but soon—she overanalyzed their meaning. She got me talking more about each one, and soon … I discovered that they might actually be more than the makings of a crazy REM cycle. The realization frightened me as much as it intrigued. I meditated on them, I initiated more lengthy talks with Vicki about them, and after the third dream occurred, she suggested telling Danneel. I was still hesitant, but since Vicki is my biggest supporter, so I trusted her when she turned to yours. I did ask that she keep some information from your wife however, and she told Dani that my third dream was in fact my first. She also made it seem like I was brushing off the matter instead of dissecting it in the way that I had. I urged Vicki to make Danneel promise not to tell you. I didn't want this to become something that would strain our friendship. No matter where my mind wandered or where my feelings nested, that wasn’t your concern. It would've been unfair of me to try and make that the case.

            I was content with it all until I saw you in your trailer a few weeks ago. I knew then that Danneel did not stay quiet. I wasn’t mad at her … I should have known that she wouldn’t be capable of keeping something from you. You two have a very solid relationship; I was wrong for asking her to hide such a thing. It wasn’t until I got home the following evening, that Vicki told me about what happened with you and Danneel just before. I suppose your wife had taken a particular interest in the content of my dreams. Again, this was all news to me at the time. When she informed Vicki of how you reacted during intimacy, well—I must admit, I got excited. I shouldn’t have. I should've scolded her _and_ Danneel for sharing something so personal. I was in charge of sharing my own secrets, but I knew that you had no say in how yours got dispersed. I didn’t say a word however, and I let my emotions carry me away.

            As I said before, Vicki came up with the plan. She said that we should explore this … ever the investigator, that one. She said that we should all get together, maybe have a few drinks … she said that I should let loose. I began thinking of all the ways I could do that, and all the ways that might allow the two of us to be physically-closer. So naturally, I resorted to middle school games. I honestly wasn't expecting it to work,  but when it did, when you crawled onto that kitchen floor with me—I myself, fell back into that pasty, lanky excitement. I should've stopped. Even drunk, I knew that I had more control over the situation than I was letting on. And as good as it felt to kiss you, and as good as it felt for you to kiss me back, I knew that it wasn’t honest; which is why I ended it.

            Jensen, I am so, completely sorry. None of this was right. None of this was up to you and therefore, none of this should have happened. We all took a series of events and used them as a ladder to dangle you from, and even worse, we blindfolded you the whole way up. I understand that I wrecked something here. I understand that my wife and I explored too much. We're use to being the adventurous ones; yet, we are usually sure that the parties joining us are just as adventurous as ourselves. This time, we overlooked that. We got too eager and I got too emotive.

            All I ask, even though it is unfair of me to ask anything of you, is that you forgive Danneel. She, in many ways, is just as innocent as you in all this. As for me and Vicki, well … we were fools. If you remove yourself from our lives completely, or as much as you can in regards to our job, I understand. Of course, I truly hope that that isn’t the case. I truly hope that you can find some place within yourself to forgive us … to _forgive me_. You are my best friend and now I find, you are so much more. I care for you immensely and to lose you would be losing a piece of myself. I deserve your worst but I will still be here, hoping for your best.  As always, I am around if you ever choose to find me; and again, I am so, eternally sorry.

 

Always,

Misha


	8. A Smile to See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

          Jensen rolls his eyes. He has to. How can he not after that? That stupid little fuck is so damn elegant. Yet, at the same time, he’s about as bumbling as a drunken rhino. Slowly, he feels himself begin to smile—fondling the paper between his fingertips, looking it over one more time, lingering on certain words—the ones that show Misha did in fact have the dreams. The ones that say he cares about him, that there is more than just friendship between them now. Everything else seems to fade away and mist off the page, but those thoughts remain. Yes, it was stupid and yes, they took everything way too far. _Yes_ , they should have just talked to Jensen about it. _Yes_ , Vicki did get too eager with her experimentation and _yes_ … Misha should've reined her in. But, they’re _them._ He has watched them get carried away with so many things—and he could always laugh about it then. He found their craziness endearing. So, he should be able to ease up about _this, right?_  Lord knows he wants to.

            Yet, all the sensibility inside him tries to regain his anger. He feels he should be dwelling on the bad, but this is _Misha._ The guy makes him laugh easier than anyone else in the world. He doesn’t know of any other person who can make him turn into a weird, crazy, dancing goof ball like Misha can. Honestly, Jensen loves the man he becomes when those blue eyes are nearby. And he knows there’s a reason that literally thousands think there’s something going on between them, because, _well— apparently,_  there _is_. He just didn’t really know it until recently. He rocks back and forth in his recliner a moment and then stops, thinking about Danneel. He's giving Misha that favor, he’s forgiving her completely. After all, she was deceived too. Not like _he_ was, but he has a feeling that if she knew Misha was seeing it all as something more serious— if she knew that he might actually care about Jensen on a _deeper_ level, then she would've been more grounded about everything. She would have talked to Jensen about it openly and honestly, and not made it into some sort of fantasy to act out. Although, he is a little surprised at just how much she _did_ act it out. She was right there, encouraging both of them to get it on in the kitchen. Yes, she _was_ drunk, but she wasn’t so drunk she didn't realize what she was doing ... maybe it was more than just a fantasy for her too. The thought hurts his head. Jensen rubs his eyes with his knuckles … he needs to talk to his wife. He needs to figure out just what she really wanted out of all this.

            But he’s getting a headache from over thinking everything, so he puts that call on hold for a moment. He’d normally bring in Misha and Jared to help hash out big, brain teasers like this; but, he can’t really do that now, can he?  _Fuck. This is all too complicated._

 _S_ lowly, he heaves himself upright and goes over to his bathroom cabinet, opening it up to grab the bottle of Ibuprofen, laughing to himself as he remembers the heated arguments he and Misha once had over the stuff. Honestly, he thinks he stayed angry longer over _that_ than he has with this—and _that_ was far more trivial. _Damn,_ should he still be angry? Is he giving up too easily? This is serious. His trust was broken. With a groan, Jensen relents. He really needs to talk to someone about all this ... and he knows just who that someone should be.

***

            The phone rings and he begins to panic a little … _this doesn’t really feel right anymore_.

            “Hello?”

            “Hey …”

            “Jensen? I—I wasn’t expecting to hear from you … not after everything last night.”

            He swallows thickly, “Well, Misha wrote me a letter.”

            Vicki sighs and taps her fingers against her phone, _“Yes,_ he said he was going to do that. He's very good at writing letters.”

            “Yeah.” And Jensen soon finds himself smiling again.

            “He explained everything, right?” she sounds hopeful, which confuses him—if what Misha said is all true, which he’s sure it is, then shouldn’t Vicki be slightly more concerned that Jensen is calling to bitch her out?

            “Uh, _yeah_ …”

            “He told you I pushed him into all this?”

            Jensen sits back down in his recliner—he needs to. “Yeah, he said that.”

            “ _Good_. It’s important you know that he wasn’t the driving force when all this started.”

            _“Um,_ yeah …” A silence falls over the line and Jensen looks around the cabin of his trailer, not really focusing on anything at all.

            “Jensen, I want you to know, I wouldn’t have pushed this if I hadn’t seen what those dreams were doing to him. I don’t know how much detail he went into in regards to those, but those dreams really messed with his head.”

            He wants to respond but he no longer feels angry enough to take control of the conversation—he just feels lost more than anything.

            Vicki sighs again. “I've suspected for a while now that he cares for you a little differently than he does, Jared or Mark—or anyone else on the show; or any of his other friends for that matter. You are a role model for him, Jensen. He sees you as this great, focused, humble man … not only with your work, but with your life as well. I know he doesn’t act like it, but he can be very insecure. He feels he needs to prove himself all the time, but when he looks at _you,_ he sees someone who has all the proof they need. He fell in love with your confidence instantly … _I think_ the rest just followed.”

            His breath locks itself inside his chest and he fumbles with every key to let it out, but none of them turn. He called with every intention of being angry with the woman; but now, he wants nothing more than to help her make her husband feel better.

            “Anyway, when he started having those dreams—they terrified him. He thought he was going to mess everything up between you two. He thought his subconscious was going to make him do something unplanned that would ultimately push you away. I tried to convince him that you would never give up on him like that, no matter what he did or thought. I know how much he means to you too, and not just from what Danneel tells me, but from what I have seen myself. I know how you act around him. And although, I couldn’t be sure of your _deeper_ feelings, I could tell that if Misha was ever lost to you, it would hurt.”

            “Yeah …” the word slips out, and he feels his heart ache with the idea.  _Misha can’t be lost to me._

            “So, you should at least understand where I was coming from. I care for him just as much as you do … he’s my best friend, my husband and the father to my children, not to mention, a wonderful man. To see him hurting, well, _it hurt me_. I wanted to be there for him, so I stepped in.”

            Jensen finally lets out the bated breath, looking down at his feet— feeling a little guilty that he originally called just to vent. “I—I understand.”

            “I’m glad. And, I knew that you would eventually forgive Misha for all this. I don’t know where you two will be or how your relationship will change, but I knew you would forgive him. I also know that you and Danneel will be fine. She loves you so much. If she knew the whole story from the start, she wouldn’t have played it like she did, you know that right? If she knew, she—”

            “No, _yeah_ … I know. I’m not mad at her.”

            “ _Good_. Besides, I think her feelings about this whole thing took _her_ by surprise just as much as they did, Misha. She told me that not only did she find the idea of you two being together, appealing; she also found it immensely sweet. She knows how happy you are with him around, and she loves seeing you that way. She even said she was shockingly, _not_ threatened at all when you began showing different emotions towards him.”

            _“Really?”_ Jensen asks, a little surprised; but then he thinks about it for a moment—feeling even more guilt now that he didn’t think about it before. He never considered that his wife could be threatened by his new feelings for his best friend. Obviously, she was dragging those feelings out of him … but he thought she was just playing around the whole time. Yet, when things became more serious—when the sound of Misha’s name began sending lighting sparks across his insides, he should have thought about what that might do to _Danneel._ She certainly doesn’t deserve any kind of betrayal; and— isn’t that what this is in a way?

            “Yeah. Believe me, I was surprised too. _Misha and I_ , of course, have an understanding about these things. We have always been open to the ideas of love and expressing it outside our marriage … but you and Danneel, _well—_ you two are much more traditional. She however, was okay with it. She even got excited about it. Personally, I think that shows just how much she loves you. If she can share you … not with just anyone, but someone that you both trust and care for dearly; well, she must love you more than anything, Jensen.”

            Jensen smiles again, and for a moment, he thinks Vicki can actually see him.

            She chuckles softly. “So, that just leaves _me_ , I guess.”

            Jensen sits up a little straighter, not sure of what she means. _“Huh?”_

            “Well, you have forgiven Misha. You will obviously forgive Danneel, but—you really don’t have any reason to forgive me. I took something and pushed into your life with it. I roped in your best friend and your wife and made them toy with you. That’s not something you can really overlook, I’m sure.”

            “ _Vicki_ …” he wants to say something, but he can’t really find the words.

            “It’s alright. I don’t expect forgiveness; but I don’t think I’ve said it yet, so for what it’s worth, I am very, very sorry, Jensen. I _can’t_ say that if I could go back and change things, I would butt in any less, but I would've approached it all differently. I guess, I just wasn’t expecting you to react the way you did, or to fall into an alternate role with Misha so quickly. I just got carried away. You don’t know how exciting it was to be able to tell my husband that you might like him back. It seems so silly, but knowing that I had information that could for once, make the man think he wasn’t stumbling into something—to make him see that he’s not always wrong, well, I just couldn’t help but share it with him. And when I saw the smile on his face, I wanted it to stay there as long as possible.” He hears her laugh and he can feel her warmth through the phone. “It’s a really good smile to see, Jensen.”

            His face suddenly splits wide with a grin, “Yeah … it _really_ is.”


	9. Puppet Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            He forgave Vicki. He had a feeling that he would in time, but after talking to her—he almost felt like there was _nothing_ he needed to forgive. There was no error anymore. She did what she was supposed to do as Misha’s wife and best friend; to fault her on that would make him the one in need of pardon.

            His head is feeling a little better now, but he takes the pills anyway. He knows what he has to do next and he isn’t sure if things will get worse or better. Jensen takes a deep breath before popping out of the trailer to wave down a set assistant. He finally snags one and tells her to go tell Misha he wants to talk to him. He would call the guy, or text him … but he’s more likely to come if he thinks it’s going to be about business. Jensen waits, fidgeting more and more with the lazy clock. And finally, after another twenty minutes, he hears a light tap on the door.

            “It’s open!” he yells, trying his best to sound casual.

            Misha is soon climbing into the trailer, eyes wide—he looks like he could vomit any second. _“Hey_ …”

            “Hey, Mish.” Jensen watches as the man eases with the informality.

            “You … you got my letter?” he asks, staying close to the door.

            “Yeah, _yeah,_ man. Come in. Sit down … we need to talk about some stuff.”

            Misha does as he’s told, walking over slowly to the couch and sitting on its edge, looking far more stiff than usual. _He looks like Cas_.

            “So, what you did … that was pretty fucked up” Jensen starts and Misha instantly shrinks, looking like he’s crumbling into the cushions. His shaggy, dark hair bounces as he nods. Jensen continues. “If you were thinking about shit—about _us_ differently, you should’ve just talked to me about it up front. Talk to Vicki, talk to Danneel, _fine_ , but man … I’m your _best friend_ and you’re mine. You should’ve talked to me.”

            Misha gawks at him, looking honestly surprised by this mini speech, as if he expected to hear his death sentence instead. “I—I _should have_ talked to you, _I know_ ; but, how do you think you would've taken it if I came to you first? If Danneel hadn’t, _um, warmed you up_ to the idea?”

            Jensen gapes a bit. He hadn’t thought of that. Honestly, he isn’t sure. He probably would’ve been pretty freaked out, more than he was with the way it actually happened. He wants to think he could have gotten over it quickly, _been accepting_ , and maybe, even a little adventurous; but really—he might have just run away. “I don’t know, man … but you should’ve let me figure that out on my own. I don’t like people putting puppet strings on me.”

            “I know.”  He sounds sad. Jensen hates it.

            “I really don’t know where to go from here, Mish. I wish I did; but this is all pretty weird.”

            “We don’t have to go anywhere except back to where we were … if we can.” It sounds like a question more than anything, and Jensen wishes he knew the answer.

            “Mish, we made out on my kitchen floor—that’s not something to just gloss over.”

            He nods again, “I know …”

            Jensen sighs, walking over to sit next to him on the couch. He wants to the guy to realize, _somehow,_ that it’s all going to be okay. “I talked to Vicki …”

            Misha looks at him, shocked ... and a little scared. _“Oh?”_

            “Yeah, she put some things in perspective for me.”

            “She did?”

            Jensen huffs a little. “Yeah. She … she _uh,_ well … I can see why you keep her around, man.”

            Misha chuckles, “Well, don’t be surprised if I call you sometimes and ask you to explain it to me.”

            Jensen feels the barking laugh rumble from his gut. He throws his head back and lets it roll out. Misha can always make him do that. It takes a minute, but when he settles and looks back towards the man at his side, his bright eyes are shining, watching him let out the last few giggles.

            But soon, Misha’s grin fades, and he looks back to his clasped hands, hunching over and resting his elbows on his knees. “But really, what did she say?”

            Jensen clears his throat and reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Well, she _uh—_ she explained that this whole thing got you pretty freaked out from the _get_. She told me that Danneel might be, I don’t know, more _accepting_ than she even thought. She said that you were … you were pretty happy when you found out … that I … _uhh_ …”

            “Oh.”

            “ _Yeah_.”

            They both avoid each other for a moment— Jensen, focusing on his own knee, making sure it doesn’t relax and slide over to graze his friend’s.

            “Are you mad at her?” Misha asks, finally breaking the silence.

            “At _Vicki_? No … I wanted to be at first, but she was just trying to help you. I can’t really be mad at her for that. It’s kinda part of her job, isn’t it?”

            Misha laughs softly and agrees. “And you’re not mad at Danneel?”

            “Not any more than usual.”

            Misha laughs again. “And … and are you mad at _me?”_

            Jensen smiles but still holds his focus on the floor. “You _acted_ , man. You acted without any cameras around. I don’t know … that just seems so ... so  _low_.” He feels his friend shudder beside him.

            “I know. That was the worst part. I really … I really should have known better.”

            “Yeah, you really should've.” Jensen breaks his staring match with the carpet, finally turning to lock eyes with the source of all this tension. Only when he does, the tension immediately seems to fade. “So what do we do now, man?”

            Misha straightens out, looking as assured as he can manage. “I will do, absolutely whatever you want me to do. If you want me to leave, I'll leave. If you want me to stay—”

            Jensen watches the man seize the rant he's gearing up for, just before slumping over again; and he thinks he knows what the guy was about to say: ‘ _If you want me to stay, to see where this goes, to see if this really means something, you know I will.’_ He thinks something like that was about to roll off of Misha's tongue— and then Jensen locks up. _No, that’s what I was hoping he’d say._

            “If I said _I did …_ want you to stay?” Jensen whispers, turning back to the floor—leering at it like it might be to blame if things turn out badly from here.

            Misha leans down, trying to catch his gaze, finally pulling Jensen back in after another moment. Jensen stares back at his best friend’s massive, azure eyes. The lids are sagging across them, heavy with worry and want. _God_ , _there is so much that happens underneath that mess of hair_. _There’s so much knowledge and experience … it really is amazing_. _Who wouldn’t want to be closer to that? Who wouldn’t want that opportunity?_  And here _he_ is, with it all laid out in front of him like a delicious turkey dinner. He can’t just let that slip away. Not if he can help it. He thinks briefly of Danneel—of his loving, sweet, amazing wife—who _wants_ this for him. She _wants_ him to have this. Somehow, she knows that this will make him happy, even before he knew it; and if she’s okay with it all, then it should all be okay, shouldn’t it? _And JJ_? _Whatever this is, will it effect her?_ He doesn’t want it to, and … he doesn’t really see why it should. Misha and Vicki, Maison and West … they’re all family to his little girl. It’s not like he’s going to advertise this to people, _but—would it be weird to her if she ever witnessed anything?_ If Jensen does pursue this at all, would JJ freak out if she saw daddy kiss Uncle Mish? That _might_ be scarring … but _Danneel is_ okay with it. She pushed for this to happen. _She’s an amazing mom_ ; she wouldn’t do anything, or try anything that would possibly harm their daughter. He knows that more than he knows his own existence. _This_ , this has to be okay. He feels like it is. Everything inside him wants it to be … so, _why not_? _Why the hell not?_

            “I want you to stay, Mish.” His words are low and breathless. He feels like he just ran a marathon. Jensen watches as his best friend leans back, rubbing his palms across his knees, seeming so small and fleeting; like he’s waiting for him to yell _‘psych!’_

“I, _uh_ …”

            “If you want to …” Jensen spits quickly, stiffening his spine and aligning his neck. _Did I completely misread this?_

 _And_ Misha looks so scared now that Jensen wants to reach across and pat his shoulder or wrap him in a hug, but he doesn’t dare, not until he knows where the guy stands.

            “I—I think I really, fucking want to.”


	10. Safari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

         “ _Yeah_?”

         “Yes” Misha laughs.

         Jensen is leaning in before his mind can give him a reason not to. Misha mirrors the motion, and in a moment, they’re connected.  He feels the soft give of his friend’s lips, something he wasn’t able to notice when he was drunk on that floor. There’s something so comfortable about how they shape to his mouth. There isn’t anything to fight, there isn’t anything to urge, to press—there’s just _Misha_. He feels the man rear up, towering over him while still keeping contact between their tongues. Misha pushes him back across the remaining length of the short couch—eventually straddling him, much like he did the night before. Strong, delicate hands glide over Jensen’s chest, making him feel whole and solid. He allows his own hands to explore the fine plains of his friend’s body, wondering how he’s never really appreciated the feel of it until now.

         “We can’t … we can’t do this for too long. I got to be back on set in twenty” Misha gasps between kisses.

         “ _Yeah, yeah_ …” Jensen grunts, reaching up to pull the man closer.

         They grapple at each other, grasping for things that neither of them know how to find. Their hands just search, and feel, and caress—not understanding anything better. Misha tries to shift his weight to his other leg but misjudges its placement. Soon, he’s sliding off the side of the couch, letting out a strangled yelp while grabbing at Jensen’s shirt. The attempt to save himself yanks them both down and they plop to the floor with a _thud._  

         Jensen laughs, hard enough that anyone outside the trailer can probably hear.

         _“Damnit!_ Shut up!” Misha hisses, doing his best to stifle his own humor.

         “God, I’m just _laughing_ —no one will know that it’s a ‘ _making out with Misha Collins’_ laugh.”

“You never know. We have some smart people on this set” Misha chides.

         “Yeah, but Jared’s out there. The IQ of everyone around instantly drops about fifty points.”

         Now it’s Misha’s turn to burst. He laughs hard; however, when he really gets going, he becomes nearly silent, all squints and gums. Jensen grins excitedly at the sight and the sound— the _feel_ , because, for the first time, he’s holding the man in his arms while he joyfully rumbles away. Jensen never wants it to stop. So just as Misha stills, Jensen pulls him in for another kiss, physically sliding him across the floor to do so. He’s surprised at how easy it is to pull his friend over, it makes him feel strong.

         “We should probably get off the floor” Misha says after breaking away again.

         “Yeah ... yeah, okay.” And with that, Jensen is upright, pulling the other to his feet and dragging him to the other end of the trailer, eventually stopping in front of his small bed. He looks at the sheets, the pillows, still nicely made and turned down from the last time he slept here. He normally would get excited about mussing up such a neat looking nook; but now, he’s petrified. _What do we do?_ Continue kissing _? More?_ The guy only has twenty minutes _…_ well, _fifteen_ now _._ That’s not really much time to do anything _—_ it’s enough to do _something_ though _._

         Misha squeezes his hand, pulling him out of his own head. “Hey, we don’t need to do anything that you’re not ready for. We don’t ever have to do _anything_ at all.”

         Jensen looks at his friend’s face— _he’s serious_. He would be perfectly content if all they ever did was kiss. _How could that be?_ He’s pretty sure the guy has been with a man before; he thinks he remembers Vicki’s book alluding to that. So … did he just not like it? Would _he_ like it? Jensen isn’t sure but as he looks over Misha’s expression, taking in its kindness, its sincerity, the thought of never knowing him more deeply than a kiss seems unbearable.

         He lets go of his friend’s hand and reaches for the hem of his own shirt, quickly pulling it up and over his head. Misha’s eyes saucer as they look him up and down. Jensen feels surprisingly _okay_ with the inspection—he’s not vulnerable like he usually feels when he has to go shirtless on set. Then again, he doesn’t have ninety eyes on him … just two; and these two are all that matter now. He reaches over for the buttons running along the front of Misha’s flannel. He starts at the bottom and laughs as he sees his friend lick his lips, unbuttoning the ones at the top. They quickly meet in the middle, ripping away the fabric, exposing the smooth, tight skin beneath. It’s Jensen’s chance to observe now—he looks Misha over and really sees his body for the first time. There’s something so _unreal_ when they’re in front of the cameras. It’s like their bodies are no longer their own, they’re just _meat suits_. So anything they see, anything they do, doesn’t really count. But here and now, he gets to tally up the moments on his scorecard. They _all_ matter—and they are all pushing him towards something good.

         He shakily brings up his fingers to rest on Misha’s shoulders, letting them slide down to take in ever ridge and ripple underneath his flesh. Jensen feels his blood drop to his waist and he wonders why it’s taken him so long to wake up down there—then again, it hasn’t been about _want_ until just now.  It has only been about _Misha_ and making sure that he would be around for as long as humanly possible. Misha looks down to watch Jensen molest his skin, appearing amazed as he does—as if he’s never been appreciated in such a way. Jensen feels a hand slide to the back of his neck and tug him hard into eager lips. They kiss hurriedly, finally collapsing onto the bed.

         Groans and heavy breaths fill the tiny room and Jensen quickly rolls to his back, attempting to shimmy off his own pants; but another set of hands are soon there to assist. He stops and watches as Misha works his fingers on the button, then the zipper, eventually pulling down the waistband—licking his lips when he sees the black boxers underneath.

         “You … _uh_ … you’ve done this before, right?” Jensen asks, feeling like an idiot that he’s taken it this far, and is still, _fairly_ clueless. He doesn’t even know what it is they’re about to do.

         Misha doesn’t look at him; he only grins wickedly and nods, giving one last hard yank at the man’s jeans to pull them off. Jensen starts to throb as Misha maneuvers him. He’s never been controlled like this. He has never been the one to just lie back while someone else takes the lead. It’s scary as hell. _He likes it._

         “Slide up the bed” Misha commands and Jensen obediently does so, scurrying back like a crab—never blinking, never taking his eyes off his friend.

         “N-now what?”

         Misha looks at him, his grin feathering around the edges, “Now you close your eyes and stop thinking about this so much.”

         Jensen does as he’s told once more, blacking out the world and allowing Misha to show him what he knows. He thinks it might be easier this way … if he can’t see the difference, perhaps—perhaps it won’t _feel_ different.

         Warm fingers lace into the space between the band of his boxers and his skin, and Jensen gasps, almost as if the touch stings; Misha slows down, and soon, he feels the man crawl over him, an arm at each side. Then those soft,  giving lips travel across his chest, each rib—trailing down to his navel and then, just below. He feels Misha’s breath blow bumps and shivers across his pelvis and he begins to feel an enthusiasm overtake his nerves.

         “You alright, Jen?” his voice is low and, for a second, Jensen wonders why he didn’t call him _Dean._

         “Yeah” he whispers, still squeezing his eyes tight.

         “Good. Tell me if that changes.”

         With a quick move, his boxers are down around his knees and his rigid cock is bouncing against his front. He gasps a bit, but tries to compose himself, not really wanting to sound like _that_ much of a chick. It’s bad enough that he’s practically moaning beneath this man’s touch, he doesn’t need to whimper with every other action as well. A firm hand grips his shaft and all hopes of stifling excess noise float out the window. Involuntary grunts and groans spurt out his throat as Misha begins to stroke. His friend moves up and down, to a beat that’s only in his own head— but Jensen finds, he _loves_ the song. He has to admit, even two seconds in and it’s already the best hand job he’s ever gotten. Maybe it’s because of Misha’s strength, or the fact that he’s a guy and he knows how it feels. Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s new and exciting and … perhaps, a _little wrong_ , that makes him so close, so soon.

         Then, the hand slips away making Jensen immediately opens his eyes, wondering why the hell the guy stopped. Part of him sinks, thinking that this could all be another act ... another little test that he could only fail or fail. His eyes quickly focus on his friend standing at the edge of the bed, shaking off his own pants, quickly removing his boxers as well. Jensen blinds himself again, squinting hard and sucking in a gallon of air. _That was another cock there … another one._ He’s used to one, _now there’s two. Jesus fucking Christ, there’s two._ The bed sinks with Misha’s weight once more and Jensen slowly exhales. _I need to calm down_. A soft, wet slick glides over his purpling head.

         “Oh _fuck_!” he grunts, bursting his eyes open to see Misha, leaning over and sucking him in. He only does a few short passes before he releases him, but Jensen is still shivering with the aftershocks. He knew the guy had a big mouth but _Jesus,_ can he blow! Jensen laughs—unable to control any of his body’s reactions now.

         “I’m going to move up, and you’re going to grab me and we’re going to stroke together, okay?”

         Jensen closes his eyes for the third time and nods. He knew that Misha would need to get _his_ too—a hand job is probably the easiest way to go, so he’s thankful for it. But that doesn’t mean the fact that this is actually happening, isn’t scaring the living piss out of him. He feels the man climb over him, scooting up until he’s sitting on Jensen’s thighs. Their cocks graze one another and he gasps again. _This is real. Shit, this is so real._ Misha continues pumping him, twisting up at the head, working out little drops of pre-cum with each pass.

         “Put up your hand, Jen” Misha insists, already sounding breathless from the anticipation.

         Jensen raises his right hand and it only takes a second for his friend to grab it and wrap the shaking fingers around his cock.

         “Now stroke it.”

         Jensen does. It feels strange, holding something so familiar without the sensation of his own touch. He quickly falls in line with Misha’s rhythm, and soon, he’s listening to the elongated moans of his friend’s bliss. Misha tugs faster and Jensen copies. They work each other over until they’re both squirming and arching against the other’s weight. Jensen feels himself pulse and his stomach tighten. His body heat spikes and his ears feel like they're burning off the sides of his head. Misha swells against the crook of his thumb. Little dribbles of his friend’s pleasure seep out to make each stroke easier—his fingers glide along the veins that wrap around the man’s shaft. He feels Misha’s heartbeat … faster and faster until—

         “Jen ... I—I’m …”

         “Yeah, _me too_ …” and he is, and _he does_ , and as he does, he opens his eyes to see Misha, bending over on top of him, spilling out over his hand. Jensen looks at his friend’s face—his eyes are squeezed tight and he’s barely making any noise, even though his mouth is wide and his chest is heaving. He looks wrecked and pained and indescribably _hot._ Jensen is immensely happy he let himself see this.

         As they come down and collect their run away breath, Misha moves off of the man sprawled out on the bed, causing his skin peels away from the quivering thighs and Jensen winces with the pinch. Misha finally sighs and falls onto the mattress beside him, chuckling a little as he does. Jensen chuckles too, and soon, they’re both nearly in tears as they roll around in their mess.

         “What are we even laughing about?” Jensen finally gasps.

         “Who the fuck cares?”

         He laughs again, trying to wrap his brain over the last ten minutes—which, he’s wondering now if that’s long or short when it comes to two guys, or should it make any difference?

         “So, was that okay?” Misha asks finally, still giggling to the ceiling.

         “Yeah … that, _that_ was something else.” Jensen smiles, thinking about the look on Misha’s face as he came—it seemed surprisingly familiar. “You know, you were pretty dead on …”

         Misha finally turns to look at him, squinting his eyes a bit, apparently too tired to ask what he’s talking about.

         “The ‘When Harry Met Sally’ thing we did at that one panel … _you know_ , when you faked the orgasm. It was pretty close to the real thing, just, not _as loud_.”

         Misha nearly barks—it’s low and raspy. Jensen likens it to how the guy sounds when he’s drunk. “Well, I had a good muse that day.”

         Jensen turns to look at the man, naked and spread out by his side. “Were you thinking about _this_ even back then?”

         Misha smiles and rolls his eyes before looking away again, “ _What_? A mind can wander.”

         “Yeah, well, yours goes on fucking safaris.”

         Misha snorts, “Well your eyes are as green as the wilds of Africa, so it’s fitting.”

         Jensen explodes out a laugh, “What the hell was _that,_ man? _Jesus!”_

         “I get pretty cheesy _post-climax_ —you’ll get used to it.”

         “Here’s hoping.”

         Misha turns to look at him, his face far more serious than Jensen expects. “Do you, _uh_ … _want_ to get used to it?”

         Jensen smiles and reaches across to caress his friend’s cheek, something they’ve done a thousand times while joking around, but now—it actually _means_ something. “Yeah, man. I can’t wait to get used to it.”


	11. Pacing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

         After Misha left, Jensen quickly cleaned up and promptly passed the fuck out. A mix of orgasms, hang overs and relief turns out to be a pretty good sleeping potion. He could have slept for hours but the ringing of his phone finally wakes him up after only one. He rolls out of bed and stumbles across the trailer to find his cell. It’s still on the counter from when he called Vicki. He grabs it and answers just before the last ring.

         “Hello?” he croaks, his voice is rasped. He really could use some water.

         “Hey … is, is this an okay time to talk?” Danneel sounds microscopic, like she’s speaking with the phone across the room.

         “Oh, _yeah_ … I don’t have to go back for a while.”

         “Good … I know that there’s a lot we need to discuss,” she whispers, “I know you probably want to yell at me, and—I deserve it.”

         “Babe, I’m not going to yell.” Jensen sits down on the edge of the couch, feeling horrible with the sad, scared tones that are humming through the phone.

         “You can _, it’s okay_. I know I’d yell at you if this was turned around.”

         Jensen smiles a bit. _Yeah, she would yell, and scream, and beat the shit out of me if any of this happened to her._ “Well, I spoke to Vicki and to Mish, and they explained things, I even—” he gulps, how the hell does he explain what happened after he talked it out with Misha? _Sure,_ his wife was apparently _okay_ with the idea of all this, but it’s another thing now that it actually happened. He feels every muscle constrict—his jaw clicks and the rims of his eyes start to burn. Should he have talked to her _before_ he did anything? He discussed it with Vicki and Misha, but he has yet to really talk to _her_ about any of this. This doesn’t feel right anymore … quite the opposite _. Did I just cheat on my wife?_

         “You _even—_ what? Danneel asks, sounding clearer now.

         “Babe … I, _uh_ …” he’s at a loss. He looks down to his wedding band, twisting it around with a push of his thumb.  _I_ _did, I totally cheated on my wife._ “I …”

         “Jen, _what_? Just say it.”

         “Fuck—I’m so sorry, Danneel! I really … I—I, it just happened really fast and after what Vicki said, I, I don’t know! I just thought it was _okay_ …”

         “ _What was_? Jensen, what did you do?” She sounds scared and hurt already.

         He can’t say it, can’t say the words. He feels himself shake and the tears in his eyes begin to fall. He thinks about his little girl and his beautiful wife. _How could I?_ _How could I do this to them?_ “I’m _so_ sorry” he chokes.

         “ _Please,_ just tell me what you did!” He hears the crack in her voice. He knows she’s starting to cry.

         He needs to say it. He needs to tell her. “I … I …” he drops his head into his hands and heaves a bit. He could throw up. He could vomit all over his shoes. “I … I _did things_ with Misha.”

         He chokes again, mouthing _I’m sorry_ into the speaker, but his throat won’t let out any sound. Silence greets him back. He waits, bracing himself for the scream or the cry. He waits for the questions, and part of him even waits for the laugh; the chuckle that will tell him that she wanted this all along—the humor that would say _‘This is the best outcome.’_ But he hears nothing. He strains his ears, trying to at least discern his wife’s breath … _still silence._

         He swallows the mass in his throat, finally freeing enough room to strangle out a word. “ _Danneel_?”

         A _click._ The line goes dead.

***

         He couldn’t even attempt to sound collected when he called Jared. The man was instantly alert as he listened to Jensen’s voice crack. He only asked one question after Jensen pleaded for him to explain to Tom that he wouldn’t be back to set today.

         “Where are you going, man?” His friend’s words came packed with so much more than concern. They were riddled with a thousand questions at once: _Are you okay? Do you need me to go with you? Are you going to do something stupid? Is everyone alright?_

         Jensen knew he couldn’t give him any other answer—“ _Danneel_ ” is all he said before hanging up and tearing to his car. He sped the entire way back to his condo, praying that he’d catch her in time. The cabin was ringing with his spurts of venom, letting it fly through the air before it came back down to settle on his skin. But, it was the silent moments that made the air truly toxic. The quiet times when he was left to brood at stop lights and slow at the sight of a cop car—those moments when every damned thought was allowed to creep back into his head … those were the times he wanted to die.

         His car’s tires squeal into the parking structure beneath his building. He doesn’t even bother to lock his doors before he’s rushing inside. He fumbles with his keys mid-sprint, trying to find the right one before he wastes any more time. His door is quickly in front of him and he jams the key into the lock, shaking the wood against the frame until he hears the latch finally give. Jensen tumbles inside, looking around in a panic—hoping to still see his wife’s luggage resting in the corner. It’s there … _she’s still here_.

         “Danneel!” he yells, far too loud for the small condo to contain. He slams the door behind him and runs around the corner to the bedroom. The door is open and he sees a familiar shadow moving about the walls. He finally slows down, his chest jerking with his dread. “ _Danneel_ …” he hums. As he pushes inside, he sees her walking back and forth in front of the window; her face is wet and blotched with tears. She’s still in her pajamas … her hair is a mess. Her make-up from the night before is streaked and smeared. Jensen wants to drop to his knees.  _My_ _perfect wife … how could I do this to my perfect wife?_   “I …”

         “Please! Just … just _don’t_ …” she shouts, quieting quickly and turning her back to him. He minds, walking over cautiously to sit on the bed. He faces away from her, wanting to give her some space, but still—wanting to be close enough in case she tries to walk away. Jensen hears her inhale, deep and shaky, and he anchors himself for her words.

         “This is _my_ fault” she whispers, and he can’t really tell if she’s actually talking to him. “I shouldn’t be upset … I practically made you do this, I _shouldn’t_ be upset.”

         He turns around, feeling the need to look at her.

         “I thought this might happen. I—I think part of me even _wanted_ it to happen. I … I just thought that it would be a long time. I thought … I _thought_ you would _talk_ to me about it first. Why … _why_ didn’t you talk to me about it?” she’s yelling again and Jensen opens his mouth but nothing comes out—no words, no apologies … _nothing._

         Danneel finally stops pacing and leans against the wall, eventually sliding down like her legs are no longer strong enough to hold her up. Jensen watches her drop—wanting nothing more than to move onto the floor beside her. He wants to wrap her in his arms, until she finally crawls into his lap, like she always does when she’s scared. He wants to hold her and rock her until everything is better. He’s always been able to make everything better before … but he’s nothing now. His wife brings her hands to her face and begins to sob; covering herself from his view … _she’s hiding from me_.

         “ _I’m sorry_.” The words seem stupid. They mean nothing, they _help_ nothing. He kicks himself for even uttering them, because all they do is make the woman in the corner break more.

         “I don’t want to hear that from you!” she blurts, sniffling up more tears and muffling her cries with her hands. “I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry! This is _my fault_!”

         In a haze, he’s dropping to the floor and sliding over to her … he _needs_ to, she can’t blame herself for this. “No! _No_ , this isn’t anything _you_ did … listen … you’re right, you’re _so_ right. I should have talked to you. It happened so fast, I didn’t even really know … I should have stopped it. I should have known better and _stopped_ it.” He reaches out and rubs his wife’s shoulder, wanting her to lean into his touch, but she pulls away. “I’m so sorry, I should have talked to you before anything else.”

         He’s surprised to hear her calm … she catches her breath, and her tears seem to slow. She rubs at her eyes with her fingers before finally removing her hands and letting them fall a little. “W—what did you do with him?”

         Jensen freezes. His brows pull up, making his eyes pop … _how the hell do I explain this?_ “What … _uh,_ what did I do with Misha?” he mutters, trying to stall. She eyes him, looking more _angry_ than sad now.

          She nods.

          “I … I kissed him again.”

         “Is that _it_?” she asks and he can tell that the hope in her voice is hollow.

         “No …”

         Danneel’s shoulders slump. “What did you do?”

         Jensen gulps and looks at the ground, “We, _um_ … we uh, _handled_ each other.”

         Danneel blinks a moment, her face a little blank as she processes what he means. “Like … like _hand jobs?_ ”

         Jensen nods, still looking down.

         “ _Why_?”

         He jerks his head up, cocking it to the side a little. “What do you mean?”

         “Why did you do that?” She seems serious … _genuine,_ but there’s something else to her eyes and he can’t quite figure out what it is.

         “I … I guess we were, I don’t know—caught up in the moment.”

         “So there _was_ a moment?” her eyes have all but dried. She straightens herself against the wall.

         “Y-yeah. I guess.” Jensen feels raw with this line of questioning.

         “Well either there was or there wasn’t.”

         He looks at her, furrowing his brows a bit. “Yeah. There was a moment. What are you—”

         “What _kind_ of moment?”

         “Danneel, why are you asking—”

         “Just answer me, _please!_ ” he watches as his wife’s face softens and her eyes arch to plead with him.

         “I don’t know! He came in … he wrote me this letter, and he came in, and he was just so _sad_. I hated seeing him look like that, so—so I told him I forgave him and … and that I _care,_ and then, we ... kissed. It went quickly from there … I don’t know, it was _stupid,_ I shouldn’t have done anything. I—”

         “Did it feel wrong when you were with him?”

         He stumbles on his racing thoughts, looking around the room, trying to catch them with each lap. Giving up, he finally settles his eyes back on his wife. “ _Honestly_?”

         “Yes, I want to know—did it feel _wrong_?”

         “I don’t want to lie to you …”

         “Then don’t!”

         “I don’t want to hurt you, Danneel …”

         She eyes him, looking like she’s holding back words. He can only imagine what they are: ‘ _You already have.’ ‘It’s too late.’ ‘Just say it, we’re finished anyway.’_   He swallows thickly, shaking his head.

         “Jensen, I swear to god, if you don’t answer me, I’ll—”

         “No! It didn’t feel wrong! Not at all, _okay?_ Not until I realized that it might be hurting you! I thought … honestly, I thought it felt damn near perfect until then!”

         She gapes at him, “ _Perfect?”_

         He falters, scooting in closer and putting his hand on her knees as she hugs them tightly to her chest. “Babe … yes, _perfect_ … but not because it was _him_ and not you. Not at all, okay? You need to understand that. I—I thought at that point, that you were on board. I should have known to talk to you first, but with everything that happened, and everything being so shitty for a while … the fact that in a moment, Misha was okay and Vicki was okay, and all I was hearing was how you _wanted_ this … _well,_ it seemed perfect when it happened. I was an idiot. I know that, but I can’t say that it didn’t feel good at the time.”

         She sighs and looks down at his hand, watching as his thumb caresses her knee. He feels her begin to tremble and he watches as more tears seep into her eyes. She rattles and finally breaks, letting her head fall forward against his fingers. He closes the gap between them, enveloping her in his arms. She grabs onto the sleeve of his jacket and cries into it, yanking the fabric to her face to muffle the sound. He rocks her. Jensen twists his body in to hold her as tight and as close as he can, but it doesn’t feel like enough. He begins to cry again too … he has never hated himself more than he does now, knowing that he did this to her.

         “I’m so sorry” he garbles through the tears that are smothering his face. “I’d do _anything_ to make this better.”

         He feels her calm against his grasp and he pulls away a little as he feels her move her head. She turns to stare up at him, her lovely eyes curved and shining with a small, tear-soaked smile.

         “Do you _really_ care about him?”

         He doesn’t feel like he should, but he nods.

         “More than me?”

         “Danneel, I love you more than anything in the world! That’s never going to change.”

         “But, you care about him too?” she doesn’t seem mad anymore, and even the fear he saw in her face seems to have flitted away.

         “I … I think so, _yeah_.”

         “Do you want to still see him—like, see where this goes with him?”

         He sighs. _He does_ , he really does but not if it’s going to hurt his wife, his marriage … their daughter. He can live with being _only_ friends with Misha, but he can’t live without Danneel. “I don’t want to do anything if it jeopardizes _us_.”

         His wife rubs her face, sniffing hard and breathing deep, composing herself the best she can. She wriggles out of his arms and pulls herself to her feet—towering over him. Jensen strains his neck to look at her—his heart in his throat, not sure if she’s about to hit him or leave.

         “If you really care about him, Jensen … if you think that he’s someone you need … that will make you happier … then I’m okay with that. But I swear to god, if you don’t talk to me about it before hand—if you don’t keep me in the loop …”

         He scrambles to his feet, straightening out to look down on his wife, still feeling tiny in the wake of her glare. “Danneel, you don’t have to say that—”

         “Jensen, _shut up_.”

         He does.

         “When I said I might actually want this for you, I _wasn’t_ lying. I know how much that man means to you, and if those feelings have grown over time, well—you can’t help that any more than I can.” She steps in a little closer to him. “I _love_ you. I want you to be happy. I just _need_ to know what’s going on before it happens. I—I don’t feel threatened by him. I _really_ don’t. I don’t know, it just seems different somehow, knowing that it’s _Misha_. But, I do feel threatened by him knowing things that I’m oblivious to. Does … does that make sense?”

         Jensen stares at his wife. He looks at her flawless face and he feels himself heat up all over until he could burst. _How the hell did I luck out with her?_ He nods, wanting to lean and kiss the woman but he’s pretty sure she doesn’t want that … _not yet_.

         “Good.” She sucks in a heavy breath and turns to look in the small mirror that’s hanging above the dresser. “I … I look like shit.”

         He laughs and spins her around, holding her tight to his chest before leaning down and kissing her hard. “Danneel, _shut up_.”


	12. Tussle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this was my favorite chapter to write out of anything ever ... you'll see why.

           They talked for another two hours. They talked about their marriage, about Misha. Danneel laid down ground rules if this was going to really happen. She said she needed to know that their marriage came first, no matter what. _No displays in front of the kids—either JJ or Maison and West, not until they’re old enough to understand. Jensen needs to tell Jared. No avoiding her for Misha. Most importantly, no secrets._ Jensen felt that every one of those was fair … and more than he deserved. He managed not to cry the rest of the time they spoke, but _she_ didn’t. She talked about her concerns, and told him that they might resurface again down the line. She said that new ones may form too, depending on where this whole thing with Misha goes. Although it hurt him to say it, Jensen told her that if she ever gets too upset, too insecure—too _anything_ , just to say the word and he’ll end it. He tried to get her to tell him to end it now, but she wouldn’t. She insisted that she didn’t want that; but Jensen knows, he was asking her to say it more for himself. It would be easier now. It would be easier to push Misha away since he’s truly still so far; but if he waits, he knows he’s going to fall hard for the guy. He knows that if Danneel wants him to stop this later on … it may just kill him.

            His wife finally got in the shower after her tears caked her make-up in blotches about her face. She said she didn’t care how many times Jensen told her she was beautiful, she still felt like a cow with mascara. He listens to her sigh and talk to herself over the beating rhythm of the water—so thankful that he _still_ gets to hear that. _She could have been gone_. He could have never heard her have lengthy conversations with herself again and he isn't oblivious to just how lucky he is right now. He walks out to the living room and sits down on the couch, considering for a moment, going to the fridge and grabbing a beer; but he quickly changes his mind. Booze has done enough for him this week. Instead he leans back, wincing as his phone jabs against him through his pocket. He takes it out and brightens the screen. About twenty missed calls appear across the glass, mostly from Jared and a few from Misha. There are over three dozen texts as well. Predominantly Jared again, asking what happened—trying to figure out what’s going on. He said he tried Danneel’s phone but she’s not answering either. He said he’s worried and he doesn't know what else to do. He begged Jensen to call him back. The next few are from Misha, wondering what he should tell Jared. He said he had a feeling he knew what was going on; that Danneel found out about their romp in the trailer and she got upset. He asked if he should have Vicki call and talk to her since she’s in the same position. He asked for Jensen to call him back as soon as he could. He said that he misses him.

            Jensen rubs the scruff lining his face. He doesn’t know what he should do. This whole thing is making everything so, _damn_ complicated. He looks over his shoulder to the bedroom door, thinking about all that he had just discussed with Danneel. _Jared. He needs to tell Jared._

            “Fuck” he mutters to himself. “Fuck, _fuck, fuck. Okay_ … gotta do this.”

            He opens up the missed calls list and clicks on Jared’s icon. In a moment, it’s ringing and Jensen nearly hangs up, but his friend is too quick to answer.

            “Oh thank _fucking Christ!_ Are you okay? Is Danneel okay?”

            “Yeah, yeah man. Everyone’s fine. I’m sorry I flipped out on you.”

            “What the _hell_ happened? I’ve been over here wigging out!”

            Jensen whistles out a breath, “It’s a really long, damn story. _Um_ … I don’t know if I should do this over the phone.”

            “ _Okay_ … well, _uh,_ I haven’t been able to get a good take anyway, so they shut down set for the day. I can meet you somewhere.” Jared sounds eager.

            Jensen looks back towards his room.  _I_ _really can’t leave Danneel, not now._ “No man, I can’t go. I suppose I should just … _uh,_ I guess I have to tell you like this.”

            “Okay, bud. Whatever's good with you is good with me. _Talk to me_.”

            “ _Fuck_ , I don’t even know where to start.”

            “The _beginning_ is what I go with.”

            “Yeah, _thanks_ smartass” Jensen laughs. Of all the conversations he has to have, _this one_ should worry him the least. He knows, no matter what, Jared is going to be there for him. The dude’s his brother. He could go out and bang a group of monkeys and Jared would probably send him a congratulatory basket of bananas.

            “ _Seriously,_ man. Danneel’s fine? JJ is fine? _You’re okay?_ ”

            _“Yeah._ Yeah, we’re all good. I’m a dumb little fucker, but we’re all okay.”

            “Well, I knew that last part.”

            Jensen rolls his eyes, knowing that somehow, Jared can see it. “Thanks. That’s sweet. Glad we had this chat.”

            Jared laughs. _It’s good to hear_. “Okay, _talk_ , man. What’s going on?”

            He sighs and grips the phone hard, knowing there’s no preamble for this and the sooner he comes out with it, the sooner he can get whatever suffering is awaiting him, over with. “I fooled around with Misha. Danneel kind of promoted it but then … she got upset. Now, I think I’m going to start seeing Misha romantically.”

            Jensen swears he can hear crickets somewhere in the background. A sharp inhale; Jared erupts. “ _Holy fucking, Christ!_ You’re serious?” Booming laughter makes Jensen pull the phone away from his ear. He waits for it to die down. It doesn’t.

            “ _Dude!_ Chill!” More laughter follows his words. “ _Seriously?_ Okay … yeah, _no._ Go ahead. _I’ll wait_.” He puts the phone down on the coffee table. The hilarity continues while he stares at the screen—a smiling picture of Jared gracing the glass, only adding to the effect of his buddy’s riot. “We done?” Jensen grumbles, but only wheezes and snorts respond through the speaker. “ _Nope_.”

            “ _Oh, Jesus!_ Oh fuck… _whew_ , man! Oh my god!” Jared sputters.

            Jensen rolls his eyes again.

            “What’s so funny?” Misha’s faint voice travels in delicately over the line and Jensen straightens up. He can only imagine what’s happening … Jared off set somewhere and Misha popping in to check on him—not having a clue the kind of abuse he just walked in on. He feels for the poor sap.

            “Oh you _sly_ mother fucker!” Jared yells.

            Jensen hears a ruffle of fabric and something rubbing loudly against the speaker. He hears a _clunk,_ then Misha yelping.

            “Jared, _what are you_ —stop! Put me down! God damnit Jared! _Stop it_!”

            He listens to Jared laugh more between smacks and the sounds of Misha grunting. The guy is most likely draped over Jared’s shoulder now.

            “I’m so _jealous_ , Misha! Aren’t I pretty enough for you?” Jared booms.

            “ _Oh dear god!_ ” Misha cries.

            “I can do the blue steel face too! Misha! _Love me_ , Misha!”

            “You fucking fucker! Put me down! I’m going to _kill_ Jensen! _Put me down_!”

            “You can’t kill your boyfriend! You _loooove_ him!”

            “What are you? _Twelve?_ Put me _the_ _fuck_ down!”

            Jensen hears a _thud_ and then more scrambling before a gasping breath wracks through the line. “Oh, that was fun! Oh, man. _Thank you!_ This is going to be such great means for torture!”

            Jensen laughs, imagining Misha pulling himself off the ground and dusting off his clothes. He can just see Jared, tossing the guy seductive winks and chasing him around set later, trying to grab his ass whenever his back is turned. _God damnit, I love those guys._

            “You’re talking to Jensen _right now_? Give me the phone!”

            “No, man! He was my boyfriend first!”

            “I swear to god Jared, give me the fucking phone!”

            “ _Nope!_ ”

            Suddenly their voices sound far away.

            “Try to get the phone _now_!”

            “Damnit Jared! I will climb you like the _stupid_ mountain you are! Don’t _tempt_ me!”

            “Oh Misha! You’re such a flirt!”

            Jensen is wheezing, he can’t help but laugh. Here he was dreading this call; now, it’s the best thing to happen all day— _well, second best thing_. He hears another tussle occur between the men.

            “ _Ah ha!”_ Misha yelps.

            Rapid footsteps fall hard onto concrete, promptly echoing over the speaker.

            Jared’s voice rings out from the distance. “ _Fine!_ Take it, but you better not get jizz on my phone!”

            “He’s such an _asshole!_ ” Misha spits, finally talking directly into the receiver.

            “You know Mish, you could have just called me from _your_ phone.”

            Jensen listens to the man’s heavy breath flow in and out of his nose before it finally collects around words. “ _Fuck_. Why didn’t I think of that?”

 


	13. Sporadic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            “Are you gonna give him back his phone?” Jensen asks, imagining the frustrated expression on Misha’s face.

            “ _Fuck no._ I’m going to run this thing over a few dozen times and then piss on it!”

            “Yeah. That’ll go over well. Do that.”

            “Don’t worry, _I will_.”

            Jensen huffs a little chuckle as he listens to the man breathe. It’s all so much the same as it’s always been, but he knows, it’s really, very different now.

            “So, what happened with Danneel?” Misha finally asks, assuming he’s a good distance from Jared now.

            Jensen sighs again. He doesn’t want to make Misha feel bad, everyone’s wounds are still fresh; but sugar coating it all will just make them sting. “I should have talked to her before we did anything, man.”

            Misha remains silent, giving him more room to vent and  Jensen appreciates it.

            “A little while after you left, she called. She was all apologizing for last night—I felt like an ass. I am such a fucking ass.”

            “ _No_ … you’re not. I should have considered her too. I’m the more knowledgeable one when it comes to all this … I should have stopped and made you call her.”

            “She’s _my_ responsibility, Mish. She’s _my_ wife. I needed to handle it.”

            “She’s one of _my_ closest friends, Jen. I don’t need to be married to her or fooling around with her husband to take her feelings into account. I dropped the ball there. Let me take some of the blame.”

            Jensen quiets. There’s no point in arguing about it now _. It’s done_. “Well, anyway. We talked.”

            “ _And_ …?”

            “And I think we’re okay. I think everything is settled for the most part. She seems to be feeling better about what happened at least.”

            “ _Good_. I’m really glad to hear that.”

            Jensen can tell that there’s something else Misha wants to say, and he has a feeling he knows what it is. “ _What_ , man?”

            “ _Nothing.”_

            “Don’t pull that shit— _what?_ ”

            “I—I really don’t want to make this about me.” Misha sounds meager.

            “You want to know if she put the _kibosh_ on us?”

            “More or less … _yeah.”_

            Jensen sighs, taking longer than he needs to answer, having the feeling he’s making the guy squirm; but after listening to Jared torture him a bit, Jensen felt kind of left out. “She _uh_ …”

            “She wants us to stop _, right?_ I don’t blame her. I understand. She’s your wife and you have to consider her emotional state above all else. You have JJ to think about as well. I know this sort of thing isn’t for everyone, and Vicki and I are just— _strange_ I guess. It makes sense that a more ‘traditional’ relationship like yours couldn’t carry the weight of a third person. I—I just want you to know, Jen, that I am okay with all of this … _of course_ , I enjoyed what we had in its brevity; but, I don’t need to quench my own thirst at the expense of others. Danneel, _you_ … you all are closer than family to me. I couldn’t fathom harming you in any way. _I promise_ , I won’t make things awkward between us. I surely hope that you won’t feel awkward when we're together. This … this will just be a pleasant memory for me to cling to, but I’ll leave it at that.”

            Jensen’s jaw is hanging as the last tendrils of the man’s speech flow across the line. _Jesus._ “You know, whenever you’re nervous, you slowly get more academic when you talk.”

            He hears Misha sigh. “ _Yeah_. It’s a coping mechanism. Vicki says that I cover my incompetency with vocabulary.”

            “She ain’t wrong.”

            “She rarely is.”

            “Mish?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Danneel says she’s okay with it.”

            Jensen listens as his friend wraps his head around what he just told him. He hears a small gasp. He hears the sigh. He swears, he can hear the man smiling.

            _“Really?_ Are you sure?”

            “I know I can be pretty oblivious at times, man, but yeah … that’s what she said.”

            Misha’s quickened breath fills his ears. _Is he running?_ “What are you doing?”

            “Hold on …”

            “Is Jared chasing you or something? Man, you better give him back his phone.”

            “ _No_ , hold on.”

            Jensen leans forward in his seat, pressing the phone against his ear, trying to decipher clues about what the man is up to. He listens to the padded steps of his pace. He hears some voices in the distance—then some clanking. _He might be passing the food trucks._ He listens as more steps fade in and out, then the all too familiar _click_ and _squeak_ of a trailer door.

            “Are you back in your trailer?”

            Misha is out of breath when he finally responds. “Yeah.”

            “ _Why?_ ”

            “Where else should I go to tell you that the next time I see you, I’m going to pull you behind a green screen and suck you off?”

            Jensen nearly chokes. _“Uhh_ …”

            “I am going to make sure that we’re just far enough away that no one will know _you’re_ the one moaning. I am going to pull off your shirt and lick every inch of flesh I see. I want to know how _every single_ one of your freckles taste.”

            Jensen leans back on the couch—tossing a glance to his bedroom door, listening in the moment of silence that Misha gives him for the sound of the shower. _Danneel is still inside_.

            “I am going to run my hands all down your sides; I’ll soak up the feel of your skin. _God_ , it was _so_ good today—I can’t wait to feel you again. To _taste_ you again.”

            Jensen shudders out a whimper. His cock is already a rock in his jeans and he palms it eagerly. “And … and _then_ what?”

            Misha chuckles low and dark, “Then I’m going to drop to my knees and I am going to take my time, biting around the bulge beneath that _sexy_ denim. I’m going to let the heat of my breath seep all the way through until you sweat and beg me to take everything off. I will make you wait though. I want to see you squirm. I want to feel your hands in my hair, pushing me towards you. I want you to beg me to choke you down.”

            “ _Oh,_ I’ll be beggin” Jensen gulps.

            “I’ll _make sure_ of it. And when I finally do, when I finally slide you out of all your clothes and lick you up down, tasting every little drop that you drip for me—I’ll suck you in. I’ll swallow you so hard that your knees buckle. I want to make you yelp and groan and _growl._ I want everyone that hears to know just how good I’m sucking you off.”

            Jensen undoes the button on his pants, reaching beneath to stroke himself to the sounds of his friend’s words. If this were a week ago, or even just a few days, he’d be freaking out—but so much has changed in just the last twenty four hours _So, so_ much.

            Misha hears him groan. “Are you rubbing it for me?”

            “ _Yeah_.”

            “ _Good_. Stroke it _nice_ and _long._ Imagine it’s me. Think about earlier … did it feel good?”

            Jensen moans and nods, not thinking that Misha can’t see him. It’s like the man is right there.

            “I’m going to make you feel _so_ good again, Jensen … _just you wait_. I’m going to suck you down as deep as I can go. I will practically choke on all you give me … and you have _a lot_ to give me.”

            “Will you look up at me?” Jensen isn’t really sure where the question came from, he just knows, the thought of those blue eyes staring at him while he gets devoured makes him close to cumming in his boxers.

            “ _I won’t blink_. I’ll look at you the whole time. I want to see your face when you explode. I want to see those green eyes shut tight and then burst wide as I tip you over. I want to see your beautiful jaw clench as you try to stay quiet. But _you won’t_ stay quiet … you won’t be able to.”

            Jensen strokes himself hard, feeling everything in his body tighten. “ _Fuck_ …”

            “I want you to thrust into the back of my throat until my eyes water … I want you to fill me up, until I can barely swallow anymore.”

            “ _Fuck … fuck!”_ Jensen grunts, feeling himself expand in his hand.

            “You going to cum for me, Jen? That’s it … _cum for me_.”

            Jensen throws his head back as he spills over his fingers. The warm mess coats the underside of his boxers is sporadic gusts, making him jolt and jerk and nearly drop the phone.

            “That’s it … that feel good?”

            “Y-yeah” he whimpers, still convulsing.

            “Good. You better go tell Dani about that one too. Next time, give me a _god damn_ heads up before you tell Jared shit!”

            The line goes dead.

            “ _Fuck.”_


	14. Shacks and Scrambles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            He did tell Danneel, and she was probably two thousand miles _south_ of anywhere happy about it. She cried some more and Jensen felt even worse. He apparently couldn’t go _five minute_ s without letting this tear her apart, so he told her he’d call Misha and end it right there … but she refused the idea, _again_. She said it was still just a little fresh in her mind, that she really wasn’t _that_ upset. Danneel has known Misha just as long as he has; she knows his sense of humor; and when Jensen told her about what happened with Jared— _she laughed_. Soon, she was even saying that it served Jensen right, that Misha was justified _. ‘Poor guy. You let him get attacked by the moose?’_ she chuckled. _They were okay._ Later that evening, Jensen picked up some Chinese food for dinner and they stayed awake until three in the morning, watching old movies and stuffing themselves silly. They talked, and she fell asleep on his shoulder, relaxing for the first time all day. _Yeah,_ they were okay _._

            When Jensen wakes up, he has a horrid crick in his neck and a decent sized drool spot on his shirt from his unconscious wife. He smiles, gently scooting out from underneath her, letting her rest back down onto the cushions. After stretching a bit and popping all his joints—muttering how _he’s too old for this shit_   under his breath, he goes to look for his phone. He wasn’t scheduled to film today, but the crew may need him to come since he skipped out early the day before. When he finally finds it, there’s only a text from Jared waiting for him.

            “ _Hey man, breakfast?”_

            It was only sent a half hour ago, so the offer should still be good. He texts him back that he’ll meet him in twenty at the diner down the road from the stages. Whenever they go there, they always feel like Sam and Dean far more than themselves. They’ve even shot some scenes at that restaurant a time or two—it’s small, usually pretty empty. They rarely get recognized. _It’s nice._ After a quick shower, he shakes Danneel a little to let her know where he’s going. She smiles at him through her grogginess, telling him to say hi to Jared for her. But as he turns to walk out the door, she shoots up from her spot on the couch, very alert and _very_ concerned.

            “It’s _just_ Jared right? You’re just meeting _Jared_?”

            He stops and frowns a bit before scurrying back to her side. Jensen wraps his arms around his wife and kisses the top of her head, smiling when she scoots into his warmth, cuddling up to his chest like always. “Yeah babe. I promised no more secrets. If I’m going to see Misha, you’ll know beforehand. And if anything … if _anything_ is going to happen, I’m stopping and calling you _first_.” He squeezes her shoulder. “If you don’t like it, _well_ … then it’s _not_ happening, okay? You’re in control here. I want you to be.”

            She nods and he feels her face pull into a smile. “Okay _... okay_.”

            “I love you. More than anything _ever_.”

            “I love you back.”

            He grins … _she always says it that way_.

            Jensen stays there another moment, holding onto his wife and thanking the stars a thousand more times that he still has her. He peeks at the clock on the wall and realizes he’s already ten minutes late.

            “I do have to go, babe. Jared has to film today.”

            “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you later?”

            “Yep … _hey,_ how ‘bout we go out to lunch later? Then maybe we can see a movie or something” Jensen says, finally standing up to leave. He smiles as she looks up at him with a grin and nods. “Okay, cool. I won’t be gone long.” And with another quick kiss, he’s heading out the door.

***

           

            “So, _uhh_ … you and _Misha_ , huh?” Jared asks, twirling his fork throughout the scrambled eggs on his plate.

            Jensen feels a flush rise up his neck; he clears his throat. “Uh, _yeah_. Yeah, I guess so.”

            Jared smiles and nods, setting down his utensil on the edge of his dish. “So how did _that_ happen? Seriously man, don’t go into the ... um, _nitty gritty_ details but, when did this all start?”

            He looks around the diner, it’s empty except for an old man in the far corner booth. The only waitress on staff is all the way up at the counter, counting the money in the register and he can hear the chef in the back, clamoring around and humming what sounds like “Blackbird” amongst the racket. _He’s safe._ “Well, uh … Misha had some dreams.”

            “Dreams? About what?” Jared leans in, sweeping back his hair behind his ears.

            “ _Me_.”

            “Like … _sexy_ dreams?”

            Jensen smiles and shakes his head, looking down to his cooling cup of coffee. “Man, you don’t need to sound so intrigued by all this.”

            “I _am_ intrigued though! It’s not every day a guy gets to discuss his best friend’s ever-changing sexuality.”

            Jensen slowly raises his head and glares at the man. “Yeah—that’s because no guy _wants_ to do that.”

            Jared snickers and leans back in his seat. “Well, _I do_ , so spill … _sexy dreams?_ ”

This conversation is going to be the death of him. “Yeah. Those kind.”

            An evil smile spreads across his friend’s face. “What were you doing in them?”

            “ _What?”_

            “What were you doing in his dreams?”

            “Oh, _c’mon,_ man! I don’t know! We didn’t talk about that!”

            Jared leans in close again, his large body shadowing over the table. “ _What?_ You didn’t talk about what you did in them? _Why the hell not?_ That’s the best part about sexy dreams! You get to discuss all the … _the sexiness_!

            Jensen props his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together like he’s in prayer; and, he _might as well_ pray, he needs divine assistance to get this man to shut up. “We didn’t discuss any of that … it was all _very weird_ how it happened.”

            _“Weird_ how?”

            He can tell by his friend’s tone that he’s hoping for a _kinky_ kind of weird. “ _Jesus_ … you really want to know all this?”

            “My best friends … excuse me, _married_ best friends now want to start seeing _each other_ — _romantically_. I think I need to know the back story here … it’s the only way I can justify making your lives hell.”

            “Oh, yeah well … when you put it that way!”

            “C’mon, man! Seriously ... _sp_ _ill.”_

            “Alright, _alright!”_ Jensen sighs heavily, laying his hands back down across the cool tabletop. He eyes Jared from beneath his brow, knowing that he’ll never get to leave if he doesn’t explain. “So Misha had the dreams … I guess they wigged him out a bit. So Vicki was, well … she was _Vicki,_ and started analyzing the crap out of everything. They eventually told Danneel about some of it—”

            “ _They_ told Danneel?”

            “Yeah. I guess Vicki wanted some input on how I might handle it; because Misha thought that he might accidentally act on some of things he was dreaming about and was apparently worried that he’d hurt our friendship.”

            _“Aww,_ that’s sweet.”

            “ _Shut up_.”

            “No, I’m serious. He’s a good guy.”

            Jensen smiles, rolling his eyes, trying to deflect Jared’s sincerity.

            “So … then what?”

            He sighs again. “Then Danneel started warming up to the idea I guess … like, _really warm._ ”

            “What do you mean? Like …”

            “Like she _liked it._ ”

            “Liked it?”

            “Like how the fans _like_ it.”

            “Oh … _oh!”_

            “Yeah.”

            Jared sits back again, running his hands through his hair and looking out the window, seeming very pensive … as if Jensen is a good book that he'd just finished. “So, how did _you_ start liking it?”

            He knew the question would pop up eventually, he just wishes he knew the exact answer. “I don’t really know, man. I think it was partly because of Danneel. She _uh_ … she _talked_ about it during … _you know_. Anything you talk about during …” he gives Jared a knowing look and his friend nods back, keeping eye contact and still looking serious. “Well, it sort of solidifies the idea in your head. _Positive reinforcement_ and all.”

            “That makes sense.” Jared says, thoughtfully. “So, was that _it_ though? Just one time of hot and heavy with Misha in your head, and then you want to _date_ the guy?”

            “What? _No!_ Like I said … I don’t really know when it all happened. That was just a part of it.”

            “But was that the _start_ of it?”

            Jensen feels himself blank. “What do you mean?”

            “Is that when the feelings for him started?”

            “ _Yeah_ … why?”

            “You sure?”

            Jensen stutters, feeling a bit knocked back by the question. “… _No.”_

            “So, you might have had feelings for him before that?”

            He drops his hands below the table as if to hide away, rubbing them softly on his jeans—he feels clammy and on fire all at once. “I don’t know … _maybe?_ ”

            “I think so.” Jared says assuredly.

            Jensen tilts his brows down, looking defeated by his friend’s statement. “Wha—why?”

            “Well, look, man …” Jared shoves his plate aside and pushes closer, bringing up his hands and laying them together on the table—how he always does when gearing up for a lecture, “As long as I’ve know you, you’ve been true to everything you do. If you like something, well, it’s like you were _born_ to like it. You like the Long Horns, you fucking _bleed_ Long Horns. You like chicken pot pie, well … it’s like you inhale the stuff to live. You don’t half-ass anything and you don’t just stumble into crap. You’re pretty black and white with the things that make you, _you_. I just have a feeling that somewhere deep down, if you are showing feelings for Misha now, then they had to always have been there.”

            Jensen slumps a bit, looking over through the window to the world outside. It’s cloudy and the sky looks low—heavy with wet and chill. It looks pissed at the earth below it. He breathes in deep; feeling like the blood inside him is thickening and stilling every artery. Little, fleeting memories crawl up his veins, pushing in to settle in his mind. _His very first day with Misha_ —that weird guy who spoke too deeply, who didn’t speak much at all after that. That strange dude who sat on the back of a stage truck and muttered to himself like he was half crazed. The man was like an old shack in the woods; he was filled with experience and mystery, and all the intrigue in the world. Jensen wanted to bring everyone he knew over to see him—to inspect and wonder. Only, no one was as curious as he was … often times, he was at that shack alone. He looked around and took it in as everyone else passed by, searching for mountains and streams; but Jensen just wanted to stay there. _Misha kept him there_.

            Jared sighs and the sound calls him back inside the diner, finally looking at his giant, best friend … feeling content that nothing about _him_ will ever change. Although, the more he thinks about it—the guy might be right. Things might not be _changing_ with Misha; they might just be stepping into the light for the first time. He smiles and nods at the man, and Jared does the same in return. They quiet and go back to eating for a while, both contemplating their conversation, and perhaps—on what lies ahead too.

            “So …” Jared says at last, breaking apart the soothing silence, “is Danneel still _warm_ to the idea, now that … now that you’re _taking_ to it?”

            Jensen wonders the same question, deciding to tell Jared everything he knows. “I think so, but she got pretty upset about it yesterday.”

            “Yeah. What happened there? You were pretty fucking freaked out, man.”

            Jensen swallows hard, forcing down all the wrong words, searching desperately for the right ones. “Well, Misha … came to my trailer.”

            He waits a moment for the man to process. “He … _oh. You two_ … did he …?” Jared makes a circle with his index finger and thumb, slowly inserting his fork through it. The man then raises his eyebrows and bites his lip.

            “Oh, for fuck’s sake! _No!”_ Jensen yelps, loud enough that the waitress turn to eye him from behind the counter. He blushes, raising his hand to her and mouthing _sorry_.

            Jared drops his fork, seeming almost disappointed. “Well, _what_ then?”

            Jensen glares at him and grunts. He knows the guy won’t let this go— not until he has the jist of it. He looks away, straining his neck to keep his focus as far from Jared’s eyes as possible, blindly feeling for his butter knife before picking it up and giving it one, long stroke— quickly, setting it back down on the surface of the table once he's done. He hears Jared inhale deeply—knowing he got the message.

            “ _Ah_.”

            “ _Yeah.”_

            “So … Danneel wasn’t happy about that I’d imagine.”

            “No …”

            “Yeah. I can see where she’d be coming from.”

            “Yeah, I wish I thought of that before I did anything.” Jensen finally looks back to his friend, feeling his face drop as he does. “I could have lost her, man.”

            Jared smiles softly and in a moment, a long arm is reaching towards him. Jensen feels his friend’s heavy hand rest on his shoulder. “But you _didn’t_ , and you’re not going to be stupid again … you’ll make sure you keep her, _okay?_ ”

            Jensen smiles and nods.

            Jared huffs assertively and pulls his arm back. “ _Good_. Now, let’s finish eating. After this, we need to go buy you some condoms!”


	15. First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            Danneel got ready to go home the next day. She had to get back to JJ. Jensen had to get back to work. Life had to get back to normal, even though _normal_ was somewhat of a mystery to them all. They pull up to the yellow curb outside the airport so he can drop her off. Jensen insisted on driving even though Clif was ready and waiting to do it; but Jensen wanted to see her off. He was going to miss her. As they stop, she collects her purse and checks her hair in the vanity mirror. Jensen smiles, wondering what there is to possibly fix. He watches as she reaches for the door handle, and for a moment, he thinks she’s going to get out without saying goodbye. He cracks a little with the thought, but she lets go again and turns to him, abandoning her things in her lap and resting her hand on his arm. Danneel looks at him as though she may never be able to again.

            “Is Misha going to be on set today?”

            Jensen swallows, desperately searching for the moisture that was just in his throat. He had been trying to avoid the thought himself. _Yes_ , Misha was going to be there. Yes … Jensen was going to see him. Was the guy going to act on everything he claimed over the phone the other night? Jensen has no clue. Part of him aches for that to be the case … that the moment he sees those blue eyes, he’ll be rushed to a dark corner and man-handled in every sense. The other part of him dreads it. If Misha sees him, if a hungry look falls over his face—if he reaches out to pull Jensen away, he’ll have to stop him. He’ll have to stop and call Danneel and tell her. _How do I tell her that?_ In theory, it’s easy, but now that it’s a serious possibility, he wants to slip into the darkest pit and hide from the concern he knows he’ll hear in her voice.

            “Yeah, he … he’ll be there.”

            She squeezes his arm and looks down to her bouncing knees as she mindlessly fidgets with her purse. “Okay.”

            Jensen sighs, breaking away from the sight to look around the sparse airport parking lot; for a moment, he wonders why there aren’t more people—but on a Monday in October, he can’t expect it to be thrumming with travelers.

            “Are you two … are you going to … _do_ what he said …” she swallows hard, “you know … over the phone?” His wife’s voice is small. He almost doesn’t hear her over the rushing boom of a landing plane.

            “I don’t know. I—I mean, he might be busy on set, or I might be. We may barely see each other except for takes.”

            She nods, still looking away from him. “Do you want it to happen?”

            He closes his eyes and plops his head against the head rest. “Honestly babe, _I don’t know_. I know this whole thing kind of sucks for you; but it’s pretty terrifying for me too.”

            He feels her move a little beside him and when he opens his eyes, she’s gazing at him with a hint of a smile.

            “I know it shouldn’t, but that makes me feel better.”

            He chuckles a bit. “Well, you were always a little sadistic.”

            She smiles bigger. “Yeah, and you were always a bit of a masochist.”

            They sit there for a moment, easing into the new calm settling about the car. A tap on the window startles them both.

            “Loading and unloading _only_ ; you guys need to move!” An airport security officer is standing just outside Danneel’s door.

            Jensen nods and waves at him, and his wife turns back, rolling her eyes and laughing a little. “I better go.”

            “Yeah.” He reaches over to hold her hand “But hey … I will let you know before anything happens, _if_ anything happens okay?”

            He watches her sigh, her face turning somber again. “You know, I’ve been thinking about it … _a lot,_ actually. I—I can’t say I’m okay with this but then wrap a leash around your neck. I have to either be all in or all out, or else … I’m just going to go fucking crazy.”

            Jensen freezes. Danneel rarely cusses but when she does, she’s usually pretty serious.

            She locks onto his eyes, drawing stern lines between them both. “I _do_ trust you. I trust your judgment and I know you’re a good man.” She relaxes, nodding to herself, as if she’s only just now becoming sure of her words. “I know Misha is a good man too. I still want to know about things, but to tell me everything _beforehand_ … to try and map out your days and moments with the guy just for _my sake_ , it’s going to make you resent me, and I’m going to start _not_ trusting you by default … I don’t want that.”

            He tries to breathe but he’s afraid to.

            “Jensen, as long as you’re sure of this … if you’re sure of _him,_ and if this really makes you happy, then I am going to be happy too. Tell me the basic stuff, and maybe, maybe in time I’ll even want to hear the details … I can see that being the case at some point. Overall, I just really want you to be as happy with me as you might be with him. It feels weird saying that, but I know, deep down, I think it’s true.”

            His wife falls quiet and he can’t help but stare at her. He takes in every inch—her eyes look like amber glinting in the morning rays. Her skin seems soft and careless. Jensen grins, thinking just how lucky he is to be able to look at her. He reaches over, running his fingers through her hair before pulling her in close for a kiss. “I can’t believe you sometimes.”

            Danneel smiles. “I know, I’m _pretty_ awesome.”

            “You have no, fucking idea.” He kisses her again.

            Another tap on the window breaks them apart. “ _C’mon!_ Get a move on, you got a queue building up now!”

            Jensen laughs and waves the guy off. Danneel finally pulls away and collects her things once more. In a moment, she’s shutting the car door behind her. He bends down to look up at her through the window. She waves at him, flashing a big, airy grin, as if to tell him “Yes, everything I just said is true”. He misses her already. And as she turns to walk away, he leans in closer … stretching his neck, trying to follow her all the way to her plane. She disappears inside the doors of the building and as he loses himself in the emptiness, he lets his senses catch the fragmented licks of her perfume that still cling to the seat.

***

            The set is buzzing—it's a big fight scene today and those always keep everyone busy from dawn till dusk. Jensen fidgets with his mic wire as he walks towards the stages, twisting at the middle, trying to escape the pesky thing. _They always seem to attach these things to purposely itch me._ He relents, finally leaving the damn thing alone and hoping he can ignore the torment. He peeks up to see Jared, dwarfing a director’s chair as he looks over his pages. In a few more steps, Jensen is standing in front of his friend, smacking him on the knee to snap him out of focus.

            “Hey man” Jensen chirps, smiling at the sight of the guy. It’s automatic, it's refreshing.

            “Oh, hey! Have you seen these new pages? The fans are going to kill us!” Jared laughs, pointing at the paper with the pen he's been mouthing.

             “Yeah I have, but they’ll kill the writers, not _us_. We’re always the victims, remember?”

            Jared smiles, pressing the pen between his lips and biting the already mangled top. “ _True_.”

            “So …” Jensen mumbles after another, brief moment, “have you seen Mish around?” he asks, thrusting his hands in his pockets and bouncing with the question.

            Jared saunters his eyes back towards his nervous friend, grinning around the pen cap. “Yeah … _why?_ ”

              _I_   _should have known better_. “ _Never mind_ , man. I’ll find him.”

            His friend quickly looks around, seemingly, to make sure no one can hear them— _at least the guy does that much_. “When you do, are you going to …” Jared waggles his eyebrows.

            “You can shut up anytime now.”

            “Okay, well, just throw up a smoke signal or something if you do … I don’t want to walk in on anything.”

            Jensen grunts and turns around, flipping his friend the bird as he walks away.

            “Oh, that’s nice! Should I tell _you-know-who_ that you’re offering to fuck me as well?”

            Jensen picks up his pace as his friend continues to holler at him.

            “That’s sweet, Jen … I just don’t know if I’m as experimental as you!”

            Jensen starts jogging.

            “Where you going? Don’t tell me this will change things between us! _Jensen?_ ”

            He finally rounds the corner and sprints out of the warehouse, avoiding all the curious looks from the crew.

            “I _still_ love you! No matter how you feel about me!”

            _That fucking asshole._   

***

            They've always whispered things to one another during takes. Normally, it would be a joke about the director, or about Jared— _mostly about Jared._ Everyone expects it, everyone is used to the two men snickering in hushed tones while the rest of the staff is working; but Jensen is convinced that they all can hear them now. He swears, their eyes are dissecting each of his movements the second Misha leans in. Jensen triple checks his mic, trying to convince himself that it _is_ in fact, turned off. He knows that _now_ , it won’t be a joke that’s’ mumbled into his ear. Misha won’t be sliding along his cheek to talk about Jared’s oral fixations, or a gapher’s bad comb over. No, the guy is going to lean in and muse about Jensen’s body. He’s going to say how much he wants to feel it, to _taste_ it. He’s going to slither up his side and whisper how good the man’s cock felt in his hand, how he can still feel him on his tongue … and to top it off, he will lace a finger into the belt loop of Jensen’s jeans, pulling them away from his skin, just to let him know that he _can_.

            He should have known the guy would torture him like this. He wouldn’t be _Misha_ if he didn’t mess around. He’s probably getting a sick thrill out of watching Jensen bite the inside of his cheek, trying desperately to keep his jeans from bulging out. _Yeah,_ he can tell by the hungry look in that man’s eyes, he’s enjoying finally having the upper hand. This is making up for the pies in the face—the resume torture, the paper airplane, _all of it._ Misha is going to exact his revenge _nice and slow;_ and the worst part is, now Jared is starting to catch on. He sees how wide Jensen’s eyes are getting every time Misha gets close. He sees it … he grins, and then _he_ comes over to whisper something in _Misha’s_ ear. Moments later, Jensen is nearly doubled over by the filth coming out of his friend’s mouth; and then he’ll see Jared, vibrating in the corner, giving Misha a subtle thumbs up.

            _They’re both assholes._

***

            “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t have stayed on set” Misha complains while waiting for Jensen to unlock his front door.

            “Because, I don’t need to risk people seeing us” Jensen growls back, for what feels like the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. He drops his keys. His hands are shaking.

            “That kind of takes the fun out of it, don’t you think?”

            Jensen glares at him before bending down to pick up the jumble of metal. Finally, with the right key in hand, he opens his door. Misha is shoving him inside before he can even straighten out.

            “Jesus! _Hold on_!” Jensen yelps, but Misha ignores him, kicking the door shut and hurtling them both towards the couch.

            “I’ve been holding on all, _damn_ day. Now … now I want to let go.”

            Jensen gasps as Misha shoves him into the cushions. He straddles his legs before slowly unbuttoning his own shirt—exposing the length of his lean, tight body. Jensen can only watch, frozen in place. He doesn’t know if he wants to touch him. He doesn’t know if he's allowed or what he could do even if he is. He feels like he should be taking the lead at some point, because, _that’s_ what he’s always done. With Danneel, with any girl he’s known this way in the past, that's what he's done. But this isn’t like those times. Misha seems fully intent on calling the shots, and something about this man rearing up in front of him, taking charge and having his way, excites every last breath from his chest.

            “Stand up” Misha commands, dismounting him and pulling off his shirt the rest of the way. Jensen does as he’s told, quickly standing tall, looking down a bit into those fierce-blues. “I want to watch you take everything off.”

            Jensen feels his body burn. The command is sexier than he can even comprehend, but the fleeting bit of consciousness in the back of his mind informs him, that if he follows through with this, he’s going to be undressing completely in front of his best friend. He looks down his front, taking too long to decide where to start.

            Misha pauses, looking at him with a new found ease. His hands reach out and tangle in the fabric of Jensen’s t-shirt, shimmying it up, letting him know that he _gets_ it. Jensen feels the cotton lift off his skin, and soon, his shirt is being pulled over his head. His bare chest prickles with the cool air of the room. Misha's eyes wash over him and he licks his lips, sending a chill up Jensen’s spine. He closes his eyes in anticipation of being devoured, but then a too gentle touch is laid along the ridge of his collar bone—and Jensen opens up once more. He feels the burn recede and for a moment; he sees something else in Misha’s face. It’s not lust or hunger, it's not impatience or need. The man leans in to dance licks and nips over his shoulders and neck. Jensen shudders, trying to hold steady to the look that's in his friend's eyes, but soon, Misha is at his ear, and Jensen is nearly collapsing as his friend’s tongue slides inside. He didn’t even feel his jeans getting unbuttoned. _Damn he’s quick._

            “Do you understand just how sexy I think you are?” Misha purrs. Jensen can only gasp with the sound. Firm hands slide around his waist, eventually burrowing deep beneath his boxers. Soon, Misha is holding two handfuls of Jensen’s ass, massaging the meaty flesh as he groans a little. “I could get off just by looking at you. I could—” Misha pushes his hips in, grinding the hard ridge of his cock along Jensen’s. _“Fuck_ … I could do this all day.”

            A bead of sweat slides down his spine. Jensen can’t tell if he’s nervous or excited for Misha to go further.

            “I can’t believe I actually get to _touch_ you … I thought it wasn’t a possibility.”

            “Is that—” he shakes as his friend spreads his ass apart; burying his lips into the soft curve of Jensen's neck as he works. “Is that what your dreams were about?” He feels the man smile, causing him to do the same. Ever since Jared asked, he had to admit, _he was curious_. He wanted to know just what made his friend so excited in the middle of the night … part of him still believes that _he_ couldn’t have been the cause of it. There couldn’t be a way that Misha _really_ thought of him that way.

            “I dreamt about this and _so_ much more.” Mish crawls his fingers deeper, causing Jensen to gulp and choke on his own saliva.

            “ _Like_ —like what?”

            “Oh, you want me to tell you all the dirty details, do you?”

            Jensen squirms as Misha’s grip on him tightens.

            “Well, _first_ … you got to take off your pants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post ... and sorry if it's kind of a crap chapter. I have been struggling with a half a dozen projects and major writer's block. Hopefully, I can get over it tomorrow and give you some nice, meaty writing to go with Jensen's meaty ass.


	16. Restrained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            He’s not really sure how it happened, but somehow Jensen finds himself strapped to his own bed with a mix of ties, thin dish towels and some old Christmas ribbon Danneel bought. He peeks over as Misha double checks his knots, as if he's some boy scout, ensuring his tent withstands a storm. Jensen quickly looks away when the man catches his eye. He feels too exposed, too, well ... _naked_. And being unable to move—unable to wriggle beneath the covers and hide himself; it’s making his entire body ache. Misha had done all this so quickly, he didn’t even have time to protest. Not that he could really form a sentence while the guy’s hand was on his cock, stroking him silly. He could barely comprehend the dirty words that were flowing out of his friend’s mouth … which is probably how he ended up here. He must have agreed to it somewhere between a pleasure moan and a sudden gasp.

            “Are you hating this?”

            Misha’s voice startles him, making Jensen realize that his eyes are closed. The muscles in his face feel tight and compacted, like it’s scrunched up in pain. _Fuck._ “No ...” he whimpers, opening up and looking over at his friend, forcing a smile as he does. Jensen catches a glimpse of his own, limping cock. _Fuck, fuck._

            “You’re a great actor, Jen, but a shitty liar” Misha muses, frowning a bit.

            “ _Sorry_ … umm … I’m just not used to being so … _exposed._ ” Jensen twists up his knee, trying to cover himself the best he can.

            Blue eyes look him up and down and thick, pink lips are soon being slicked over with a tongue. “Well, my plans on pleasuring you sexually are much harder with clothes on.”

            Jensen tries to smile again, but the man is eyeing him too hard.

            “I have an idea …”

            Before Jensen can question, Misha is bolting into his closet, quickly returning with one of Danneel’s scarves. As soon as he sees it, he doesn’t have to ask.

            “Let’s try this, and if you’re _still_ hating it—I’ll untie you, we’ll turn off all the lights and do this shit by braille.”

            He nods, letting his imagination run a little with that idea. His cock perks up again.

            Misha crawls onto the bed, holding the scarf in his teeth. He slinks up over Jensen’s body, taking in every freckle and divot as he moves. Soon, he’s straddling him—letting the heat from his skin coat the subdued man. Jensen looks down a moment at where his friend is seated, thanking the stars that the guy still has boxers on. There’s too many mixed emotions right now, too much discomfort, clashing head on with eager-pleasure. A man’s bare ass grinding into his cock would probably be the straw that breaks him. His friend leans closer, pulling the scarf from his mouth and reaching up around Jensen’s head. In a moment, everything is dark, save for the thin wire of light creeping in at his cheeks. It’s enough to see Misha’s shadow move over him, but nothing else. Jensen decides he won’t even acknowledge that much. He closes his eyes completely in a last-ditch effort to relax.

            It’s amazing how when one sense shuts down, part of the mind seems to shut down with it. He starts to sink into the new calm … he isn’t thinking as much. The feeling of Misha’s weight becomes mysterious and inviting, instead of looming and terrifying. He can smell him … the scent of the guy’s after shave and something else—it’s kind of earthy and dry. _It smells good_. It smells like _Misha_. Jensen breathes in deep as his friend glides his hands over his bare chest. Finger tips trace circles around his nipples, giving them subtle flicks and pinches every so often, making Jensen jolt. Hips are soon gliding back and forth across his waist, making his cock harden and ache for better attention.

            “ _See_ … now we’re getting somewhere” Misha moans, before leaning down to lick the seams of Jensen’s body.

            “Not fast enough” he hisses back, noticing how every touch—the contrast between hot friction and slick stick, is making his nerves twang.

            “Well, I don’t want to rush this. Like I said, this is something I _never_ thought I’d get to do. I need to relish in every moment.”

            “Your relishing is going to kill me.”

            “It’ll be worth it.”

            “For _you_ maybe!”

            Misha laughs, slipping up to Jensen’s jaw and biting it playfully. “Have I ever told you how much I _love_ this part of your body?”

            Jensen stills with the sudden change in mood. He shakes his head.

            “I'm captivated by it.” Another lick and bite emphasize his point. “The way you tense it … the way it clenches when you think. The way all its angles show when you laugh … why do you think Cas stares so much?”

            “Character choice?” Jensen breathes, squirming a little beneath his friend.

            “ _No_ , that’s not the character … that’s an uncontrollable reflex. Your jaw moves, I have to stare—it’s just the way it has to be.”

            He feels the man lick along the bolt, the curve that runs up to his ear, before switching to bite all the way back down to his chin.

            “Oh, and your _lips_ … those are another culprit.” Misha collects Jensen’s bottom lip in his teeth, causing him to gasp and arch. “I _have_ to stare at your lips.” Another bite and then, Misha’s soft, sweet tongue is gliding over them. “I could stare at them all day.”

            “You're paid to” Jensen laughs, feeling Misha smile around his mouth.

            “I am, aren’t I? I have the best, damn job in the world!”

            The heat rises in his neck. It's a little uncomfortable, this _complete_ adoration of his face—especially when it comes on his best friend’s gravelly tones. _It’s strange._ “So … uh, you gonna’ tell me about those dreams?” Jensen slips out between kisses and bites.

            “Oh, yes … I got side tracked.”

            “You always do.”

            He hears his friend laugh again before dropping him another kiss.

            “ _Well,_ they all started out mostly the same …” he feels the man’s weight shift as he dismounts him. In another moment, Misha is off the bed entirely. Jensen begins to sweat, not sure where this is going and kicking himself for bringing it up again. “I would always be outside of a room, just walking in—when I’d see _you._ ”

            “Yeah?” Jensen asks, wriggling against his restraints.

            “Mhm.” Misha’s voice sounds far away, like he’s standing at the door. “I would see you, and I would turn around … wanting to let you be.”

            “Why?” _Let me be? That’s very unlike Misha._

            “I’m not sure, but I was wanting to give you your privacy in the dream.”

            “Wh-what was I doing?” Jensen feels himself getting more intrigued, worrying less that Misha’s voice is drawing closer.

            “Your back would be turned and you’d be looking down at something.”

            “At what?”

            “Well …” a warm hand wraps around his half full cock. “You were touching yourself.”

            “Oh!” Jensen gasps, arcing up as his friend begins to stroke.

            “ _Oh_ , indeed … I would always start to walk away, and then you would stop me.” He hears his friend slide onto the bed once more, feeling his body dip and rock as his positions himself beside him. “You would call me back over, and tell me to get on my knees.”

            “That’s uh … that’s pretty demanding” Jensen groans, his mind slowly melting away with Misha's touch.

            “It was; but it was undeniably sexy.” He listens to him sigh as he bends down, dripping heavy, hot breaths across his thigh. “You would tell me to open my mouth …”

            Jensen moans with the thought—the other day in the trailer rushes back to him, the feeling of Misha’s tongue …

            “I did as I was told, of course. And then you’d slip your cock between my lips … and you’d move slowly, _back_ and _forth,_ telling me to _lick_ you … to _suck_ you … to _look_ at you.”

            “That …” Jensen yanks at the ties around his wrists, “That sounds like something I would want.”

            “Oh, you _wanted_ it … because, as soon as I did, well, you started thrusting harder.” As his words slip out, Jensen feels every one, breathe onto his cock. His friend’s lips hover just above his head, teasing it with their closeness. “I would watch you as you sunk deep into my throat—watch you _moan,_ and that sexy jaw, clench. I’d watch your eyes bulge as I sucked harder.” Misha licks a long line up his shaft. Jensen gasps and rips at his bindings. “You would jump, just like that.” His friend does it again and laughs as Jensen jerks and sucks in a gallon of air. “You would push into my mouth so hard, I’d almost choke—but I would love every second of it.”

            “ _Why?”_ Jensen asks, finding that bits of his brain are still intact enough to be curious how _any_ guy would enjoy that.

            “Because it would be _you._ ”

            He doesn’t have a moment to let his friend’s words sink in. Misha consumes him too quickly. He sucks him in hard, letting his tongue press and swivel from the tip to the base; dancing on every vein in between. Jensen’s eyelids flash red and white as he twists his head from side to side. He moans, forgetting to be quiet, forgetting that he’s naked, spread out wide across his bed … not caring that a _man_ is currently devouring him. _It feels too good_.

            Misha pulls away a moment, quickly sliding up to Jensen’s ear, giving it a quick little lick. He whispers words—low and deep, letting each syllable saunter into his head and nestle there, like they belong, like they were his to begin with, “Pleasuring you, knowing that _I_ was the one making you _lose it_ … that I could _wreck_ you … _well_ —there’s nothing better, Jensen. You hear me? _Nothing._ ”

            The man returns to Jensen’s, now, leaking cock and delves down once more. It only takes a few more passes from those smooth lips and skillful tongue to make him throb. He feels Misha shift, until he’s leaning directly over his waist, and he drops. His tip rams into the soft curve at the back of the man’s throat. He pulls up—falling down again and coughing a bit around Jensen’s head. Misha goes over and over, sucking harder each time and making Jensen growl at the ceiling of his room. He can’t even care that the neighbors above him can probably hear— _this_ , this is _perfect_. He feels the knots at his wrist and ankles tighten, making his limbs tingle and cool; but he keeps pulling. Misha continues eating him alive and swallowing the little bursts of precum that he forces out of Jensen’s cock. It’s almost too much, too much good on top of too much _everything._  Jensen jerks and yanks, arches and groans. He cusses and bites his own tongue, trying to contain himself. But Misha is too controlled and his movements are too synchronized. His eyes water; part of him wants it to stop because he feels like his body is going to break. Misha progresses his assault, sliding one of his hands up Jensen’s thigh, until his fingers are tracing circles on his joints. In another moment, he feels the man scoop up the tightened sack just below the base of his shaft. Perfectly timed squeezes are introduced while his friend rams him into his skull, again and again. His stomach pulls and burns. Every muscle aches from him clenching them all at once. Jensen grits his teeth as he feels himself peak.

            “ _Fuck!”_

            He explodes, shooting sticky lines into his friend’s mouth. Misha gulps him down, never missing a beat, still holding him—pushing and pulling as Jensen throbs. He yells, barking into the air as it rings in deafening tones. He feels the man steady himself against his thrashing, determined to work him over until he’s completely dry. Embarrassing squeaks and yelps start escaping his lips as he comes down the other side. All his nerves are raw and tender, but Misha is still licking at them like they’re asking for it.

            “Ah! _Okay!_ Okay! Stop! St-stop! _Shi—it!”_ Jensen hisses and Misha finally slows.

            He feels saliva drip and pool across his pelvis as the man slides him out from his lips. “Well, I think you enjoyed that more than _dream-you_ did.”

            Jensen laughs deliriously, not really even sure of what’s being said, but he nods anyway.

            The bed rocks and springs back up as Misha slides off. Soon, his legs and arms are jiggling as the man unties him. When the final knot is undone, Jensen just lets his arm fall, flinching as it tingles and stings with the blood rushing back in to his fingers. He starts to shiver, feeling overwhelmingly cold after his release. Somehow knowing, Misha tosses a blanket over him and inches back onto the bed, finally undoing the blindfold. Jensen squints against the light, blinking rapidly, as if his eyes had forgotten how to see. As he focuses and the phantom weight on his lids disappears, the sight of Misha, staring down at him with a smile fills him up.

            “You feel better?”

            “I never felt bad …” Jensen grumbles with a toothy grin.

            “Yeah, well, did that make you happier, then?” Misha asks, sliding down against his side.

            Jensen wraps his arm around him instinctively, too tired to analyze the fact they are _actually_ cuddling. “ _Much.”_

            “Good.”

            If he wasn’t so drained, he would have thought more about Misha— the guy probably wants to _feel better_ too; but he can’t manage it. His eyes are too heavy and his muscles are mush. Misha is warming him up too well with the heat of his body, wrapping over his own. He’s sinking too far, too fast into the feeling of the man’s heavy arm draped across his chest. Even the slight itch of the guy’s stubble on his shoulder is a strange enough sensation, that he’s enjoying letting his mind explore it. No, he can’t  bare to move an inch. He promises himself, just before he drifts into sleep, that when he gets his strength back—he’ll make his friend feel just as good as he does now.


	17. A Knack for This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has taken so long to post! I hope you guys are still interested. I will have at least one more chapter up by the end of the day. Hopefully more so you all will forgive me for disappearing! I hope you like it!

            With Danneel, it’s his favorite thing. Even when they first met—he just couldn’t help himself, _he stared_. He looked at every feature: her eyes, her lips. Of course, with _her_ , many men can’t help but gawk. But when Jensen finally got to _touch_ her, when he finally got to feel her soft skin and hold her close … he took his time, just like Misha did with him. He _gets it_ … well, the desire to soak someone in with every sense he has— _that_ he gets. He has _no_ fucking clue why the guy would do it to _him_.

            He woke up an hour later with his sleeping, best friend nestled against his side. He stayed still; half of him, not wanting to disturb the guy, the other half—too scared to. If he moves, he’ll have to act … he’ll have to make a decision. He promised himself in his post-bliss haze, he’d reciprocate Misha’s generosity; but now that he’s rested and returned to reality, the reality of it all is setting in. Not only is he not sure of what he would even do, he’s not sure _how._ What does this guy even want? Obviously, he’s a _guy_ … so maybe, just the normal stuff? But what is _normal_ when it’s two dudes? Jensen tenses. He’s getting fidgety but he _needs_ to be still—he hasn’t thought about this enough yet. _Does Mish want a hand job? A blow job? Does … does he want something else? Should I ask him?_ One of the many things Jensen has loved about their friendship is that Misha is the guy he could come to with all his puzzling questions, and he knew his friend would always take him seriously. He would never act like he was dumb for asking—he's his teacher for all the weird parts of life. So … why not teach him about this? Why not teach his clueless-ass how to pleasure a man?

            Jensen looks down at his friend’s heavy arm, lying across his ribcage like a fallen tree. Fingers are curving towards his back, locking him in and keeping him from sliding away. The guy’s skin is warm and eased; Jensen wonders how he keeps it so smooth with all the woodworking and crafts that he does. He would think the man would be covered head to toe in scars from splinters and all around, clumsiness; but no, he’s soft and clear. Jensen tilts his head a bit to make sure Misha’s eyes are still closed. It’s hard enough thinking about this stuff as it is, but to have those bright, blue beams on him while doing so, makes everything damn near impossible. _He’s asleep, sound asleep._ Jensen looks back to the toned, tan arm that is strewn over him. Even at rest, the muscles are prominent. They twist and roll under the skin like a soft current in a river. They carry his eyes down its length, to the disappearing curve of his friend’s hand. It seems _huge._ Jensen has never seen a more muscular hand than Misha’s. He wonders what the guy does to build it up so much.

            A blush rushes over his skin. _I can imagine a few things._ Things that he’s only just _recently_ realized Misha has an affinity for. He breathes in deep, letting his green eyes mosey over towards the other side of the room. Pictures of his wife spot the wall. He squints against the evening glow to take them in. _How did I go from liking the most feminine of things, to Misha?_ The guy can be weird … a little quirky and they always joke on set about him being a chick, but as Jensen casts his looks back down, following the sinewy, toned flesh up to his friend’s broad shoulders, he settles; the guy is truly anything _but_ feminine. He’s everything a man should be and Jensen is _attracted_ to him. _How?_   He wants to question it, think about it for years if he has to, but he finds, right now, more than anything, he wants to explore Misha’s body. Woman or man, it’s still his favorite thing to do. With Danneel, he’ll run his hands through her hair, taking in each strand. He’ll pad his fingers over her hips, her breasts. He’ll run his lips across her navel, loving how her stomach dips in. The whole sensation can be better than the sex. Yes, it’s his favorite thing, letting his skin absorb hers; and now, his skin wants Misha. It wants all of him.

***

            “Are you just going to copy _all_ my ideas?” Misha laughs as Jensen wraps the scarf around his eyes. “Not that I would mind blindfolds and ties … but at some point, you’ll have to find your own material.”

            “Well … uh, I like this idea. It’ll … help you relax.”

            Misha doesn’t respond but Jensen sees the coy smile jutting his mouth up until it’s nearly hiding beneath the folds of the scarf. They both know that _Misha_ is not the uncomfortable one here. He seems about as relaxed as they come. Jensen on the other hand, well, he couldn’t hide his shaking fingers when the guy woke up and slid over to kiss him. He tried to stop himself from sweating through the sheets as Misha looked over his still, naked body. It was all he could do not to choke on his tongue when the man shifted against his thigh to run his rigid cock into it; letting Jensen know that he was ready and waiting for _his_ turn. And then, Misha _stared._ He brought those blazing stars down on him, flaring, and expanding, asking a million questions—filled with lust and wonder. _It was too much_. Those eyes are what made him lose it over the guy, but they were going to be his undoing in this moment. He has to cover them up; it is the only way he’ll get through this.

            As Misha is finally blinded, Jensen backs away, looking at the man seated on the edge of the bed. He’s still covered up with his boxers, but they don’t hide his excitement at all. Jensen swallows hard, only slightly relieved that his friend can’t see him panic; but his heavy breaths and damn-near chattering teeth are probably _all too_ audible. If he could plug the guy’s ears too, it might just keep Jensen from a breakdown.

            “You’re not going to be a dick and leave or something, are you?” Misha asks, breaking Jensen’s jumbled train of thought.

            “What? _No!”_ he snaps, slightly offended at the guy’s low expectation of him; Jensen quickly quiets, knowing that he _could_ run, if it wouldn’t actually hurt the man’s feelings. He'd be gone.

            “Okay … well, not that I mind a bit of teasing either, but I don’t think you’re experienced enough to give me a touchless-orgasm.”

            Jensen clams up.  _I_ _really wish he wouldn’t be so blunt right now._

            “But … if you want to try, I am always game for kinky experimentation.”

            He clenches his fists. _Jesus, he can be so annoying._ “Shut up, Mish.”

            “Fine, fine” Misha mutters, tossing up his hands a little. “I’m just trying to see where this is going, that’s all.”

            Jensen feels a slight calm as the familiarity of his friend being a _prick_ starts filling the room. “Well, that’s why I blindfolded you. You ain’t goin’ to see shit.”

            “ _Oh?_ And here I thought you were actually trying to arouse me.”

            Jensen snickers while taking a few steps closer to his friend. He smiles a bit when he sees Misha tense. _He’s nervous now too._ Jensen should have known, the man always deflects his nerves with a cocky sense of humor. Oddly enough, his act is a comfort. Jensen feels bolder watching each one of the man’s muscles twitch. _This isn’t much different than Danneel._ He likes making her squirm _. I can still be in control. I can do this._ Jensen bends down, slowly pulling off the boxers he had put back on when he climbed out of bed; breaking at the knees to slide onto the rug beneath Misha. He kneels directly in front of his eager, blindfolded co-star. Jensen takes a deep, soothing breath and slides his fingers over the man’s bare thighs, taking a moment to close his eyes and soak up the feel. “I think I have other ways of arousing you, man.”

            _No witty comeback, no snarky smirk_ —Misha just shutters, folding his hands in his lap like a schoolboy. Jensen peeks at him and smirks again. _Yeah, I'm in control here._  He begins to look his friend over, feeling like the limits have finally been lifted; limits that he didn’t even know were there. Jensen never allowed himself to look at Misha’s body … it wasn’t even an option. The scene the guy did at the laundry mat, Jensen just walked off set. He wasn’t in that take—there was no reason for him to be there. All he thought about was how much _he_ hates extra, unnecessary eyes when he’s filming a shirtless scene. He thought he was doing his friend a favor by not watching him strip down to his boxers … _but now_ , as he looks across the man’s broad chest, at his stomach, curving in against firm, rolling abs—as he sips up more of his fluid, seamless skin … Jensen wishes he had stayed. He wishes that he gave himself this luxury, years ago.

            “So … _uh_ …” Misha clears his throat, causing his voice to pitch up slightly. “What _are_ you planning on doing?”

            Jensen lets his lips part, nearly slipping out words before he closes up again. _Why talk?_ He manages to know how to drive Misha crazy in every other aspect of life, _why not in bed?_ He might have a knack for it. Jensen remains quiet as he scoots in closer, spreading his friend’s legs, pushing his chest between them. He shivers as the man’s knees squeeze against his ribs. Jensen's hands run further up, over Misha’s hips and along his stomach. He lets his fingers glide along his friend’s sides and wrap around his back. He uses the man’s weight to pull himself in. His lips are soon skidding along Misha’s chest and he silently thanks the guy for having no hair there—that’s one manly-attribute he definitely _wouldn’t_ enjoy at a time like this. Jensen pushes out his tongue and glides it over his friend’s nipple, stifling a giggle as Misha jolts. _I remember why I enjoy doing this so much._

“Are we just not talking now?” Misha hums with a laugh.

            Jensen continues kissing his friend’s flinching skin, feeling more confident each time Misha recoils.

            “Oh … _I see_ , since I said you were copying me, and _I_ talked the whole time, you’re just going to stay quiet, is that it?”

            Jensen rears up, closing his eyes and biting at the man’s dark, stubbled cheek. The spiky hairs prick his tongue, and he can taste the salt on his flesh. He feels himself bulge and tighten as Misha’s hard-on runs against his stomach. _I really don’t understand why this is so hot._

“You’re really not going to talk at all?”

            Jensen keeps his eyes closed as he pushes Misha down flat on the bed, sliding his body over him and letting his weight hold the man down. Misha pulls up his thigh to rub against Jensen’s cock as he moves—making him gasp and push them both deeper into the mattress.

            “Two can play this game, you know” Misha hisses, grinding blindly at the topping man once more.

            Twitching but silent, Jensen responds with a firm press to his friend’s shoulders; eventually moving his legs over so they’re pinning Misha between them. Jensen sits back, feeling the man’s length run rigid into the cleft of his ass. He shudders again. _Why the hell does that feel so good?_

“You know, it might be pretty hot if you spoke …”

            The man’s mouth is quickly closed with a kiss. Jensen let’s his tongue fight off any remaining phrases on Misha’s lips until he surrenders, sinking back into the mattress and letting Jensen move back and forth on top of him. Soon, pleasant groans are humming into his mouth. He smiles, happy that he’s doing this right so far … but this is the easy part _—feeling,_ kissing. This part is all the same as what he’s always known, _minus_ the thing currently poking him. He panics again when he thinks about the next step. Misha surely won’t want to just stop at Jensen’s silent taunting. No, he wants _more_ —he wants to finish.

            He tries to stop thinking, and the feel of Misha wrapping his impossibly strong fingers around his forearms is actually helping quite a bit. He closes his eyes again and makes a mental note of how it feels to be held like this. He loves seeming like he’s malleable in someone else’s hand. Jensen rocks on top of the man beneath him in instinctual beats; and with each pass, Misha digs into his arm a little more.

            _“Jesus,_ Jen … you’re driving me crazy right now.”

            Jensen smiles, _I'm doing alright._ It’s enough to urge him to move, to try something else because if he waits any longer, he might just lose this little bit of nerve. He props up his body, eventually dismounting the man so he can kneel at his side. He blindly feels for the hem of his friend’s boxers, pulling them down until there are tight on Misha’s knees. Jensen keeps his eyes closed, trying to only think about the heat he feels rising from below him, and the earthy, deep scent that is being enhanced by how eager his friend is in this moment. He slowly climbs back onto Misha’s body, this time, sitting a bit further down so he’s pinning the guy’s thighs with his weight. His hard cock falls next to Misha’s and twitches with his suddenly, racing pulse.

            “What are you going to do to me, Jensen?” Misha whispers between uneven, anticipated breaths.

            Jensen smiles through the darkness of his eyelids, not sure, but enjoying how the points of Misha’s hips, press into his thumbs as he grips them. They wriggle and writhe with every one of his movements. He lets his fingers absorb each one of his friend’s twitches, like the vibrations of a drum he’s beating … he’s playing him perfectly. It feels so fulfilling that he can’t help but withdraw a hand to stoke himself. His own body wants attention just as much as Misha’s now. He reaches down, and as he feels for his own cock, his grasp, mistakenly falling on his friend’s. He freezes. The one time he had done this back in the trailer was not enough to ease him now.  _I_ _don’t know what I'm doing. I have no fucking clue._

            Misha’s hands jut to Jensen thighs and dig their nails in with the grazing touch. It’s a big enough reaction to jolt him from his own terror. _Oh ... oh, okay._ Jensen pockets his nerve; experimenting—gliding a fingertip over Misha’s throbbing head; the man’s fingers rip into his skin. Jensen bites his lip, enjoying how easily his friend could tear him apart. He sinks down further, finally letting go of the apprehension that’s holding him back. He grips hard onto the man’s shaft and Misha lets out a growl that nearly makes him fall over. _Jesus, his voice is sexy._ Jensen strokes up and his friend gasps and groans again, so deep that it shakes his skin. His own cock begs for the same experience, but he knows he needs his other hand to stay propped up—his body is shivering too much to not have that support. He thinks a moment, finally breathing deep and collecting both their leaking cocks in his hand. He struggles to keep them together, especially since the added sensation is making the man beneath him squirm like he’s sinking to the floor.

            _“Fuck!_ Jensen!” Misha yelps.

            Jensen takes the cry as a sign to move faster. He runs his tensed grip along their lengths, amazed at how good it feels to have the man’s heat slipping against his, matching every throb with his own—tussling with every vein. He melts away into the sensations and the humming bliss. His hand takes over, running on reflex while his mind carries off. The pulsating moans and pleas from his friend, rock him, lulling him into the ease that he’s accustomed to but is still as exciting as the unknown. They move together, over and over, wringing each other out with holds and shakes, thrusts and pulls. It’s hypnotizing and melodic, and Jensen gets lost in their music.

            “Jesus Chri _—Jen,_ I … I’m getting close!”

            The words would probably have scared him if he wasn’t already on the edge himself, so he just rocks and he strokes. He lets his own moans fall from his lips as he arches over with each pass of his hand. He feels Misha expand against him, and when there is a sudden silence, when his friend’s voice stops rolling through the air like crashing, ominous clouds, he hitches. Jensen tightens up and lets his hand push through one more pass, squeezing hard with firm fingers running along both of their heads. And as they finish their lap, Misha begins to jolt, seeping his hot stick across his own stomach, and Jensen is right behind, emptying out until his hand is a mess, and he is nothing but putty, molding over the man beneath him. He lets himself drape over Misha’s body—his hand still trapped, and he shakes. Misha finally releases his death-grip from his friend’s thighs, raising his hands so they can stoke down the back of the man above him. He turns his head, letting his scratchy cheek slide like sand paper on Jensen’s ear. The man inhales, still quivering a little from his release and then sighs, placing a kiss against Jensen’s head, so soft, that it almost seems taboo against this air, filled with sex and want.

            “I don’t know why you were so nervous. You’re great at that.”


	18. Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            Danneel had stuck to her word—she didn’t pester, she didn’t ask … and when Jensen told her about his time with Misha, she seemed okay. All of that didn’t make him feel any better, however, and he almost wished he didn’t have to talk about it at all, because he could swear he saw something break in her every time he did. She would promise him that it was fine, but he just couldn’t see how that could be true. How could she be alright with her husband, not only being _with_ someone else, but obviously, _falling for_ them? To top off his worry, they barely had sex the last few weeks—given, they were busy. The show was right in the middle of a climactic season and Danneel had been working as a guest star for another series; but when they were together, they would just talk or play with JJ. He found he was lost in his head most days, terrified of his growing desire to call Misha in order to vent about his concerns with Danneel. It seemed messed up, like he was just using one to relent about the other. Sometimes, he wanted to cut himself completely from the web he was weaving. He grew exhausted over worrying what everyone else was thinking. Sometimes, he just wanted to focus on himself.

            The funny part about it was, no one was really asking for him to worry. Misha seemed alright with just about everything; although, unlike Danneel, Jensen wasn’t around the guy enough to see if that was true. They would talk or text often and if _anyone else_ was looking at them, it would all seem innocent. Their conversations rarely delved into the dirt, and even when they were on set, the torturous flirting had pretty much stopped. Misha must have known that there was a line somewhere that Jensen didn’t want to cross, not while on set. So he put away his lecherous glares and sinful tongue until they were in the safety of either one of their condos. Jared pulled back a little too—which was shocking to say the least. But the guy would never do anything that truly angered his friends, not on purpose anyway. So, things seemed normal on basically, every front, but Jensen still worried. He often thought that maybe it was all in his head … that he was just over analyzing everything and things like this really _could_ work out. He wanted that to be true, but his pessimism remained.

***

            Danneel had come to Vancouver unexpectedly.  She called Jensen the evening before and said that she was going to fly up. She didn’t necessarily say _why_ , but he didn’t ask. He was still happy for any reason to see her, even though things were tense, he loved his time with her and their little girl. The next morning, she was in the living room with JJ, playing with one of their daughter’s new, obnoxious toys. Jared and Gen always get her something sing-songy and girly. He thinks Gen wants a daughter of her own, so she spoils _his._ She probably goes nuts sometimes with the three she’s got. One big goof-ball and two other little, carbon copies of Jared seems like it could be quite overwhelming. He laughs, _that woman is a trooper_.

            “Daddy! Look!”

            Tiny, little hands hold up the pink, talking bear. Its nose is flashing and it’s singing some sickening song about sunshine, but he instantly loves it because the look on his daughter’s face is one of pure elation.

            “I see it, baby! _Wow!_ Is it singing?”

            She nods and pulls the bear back, clutching it tightly to her chest. “Yeah … it singin’ a song!”

            “It sure is!” He scoops up the baby girl and starts kissing her across her face, her chubby cheeks, grinning wildly as her giant eyes squint and pop with the attack. She giggles and squirms in his hands, kicking her feet with glee.

            “Tickle!” she yelps as he finally pulls away.

            “Oh? You want tickles? _I don’t know_ … the tickle monster might not be here today.”

            “Daddy! Tickle, tickle! _Please?_ ” her little fingers reach out and grip onto the collar of his shirt. He melts. He’s mush. This little thing can shatter him five ways ‘til Sunday and he loves it.

            “ _Oh my_ , we are so polite. Okay … let me see if the tickle monster is around.” Jensen over exaggerates his gaze, craning his neck around, dipping and swaying the little girl as he pretends to search for the monster. She laughs and squeals as he flails her about. He goes over to the kitchen counter and starts slowly stepping down, bending at his waste and lowering his body to make it appear as if he's descending a flight of stairs. He hears Danneel laugh from the living room and he looks over to toss her a grin as he drops towards the floor. JJ screeches. _She loves when I play like this_.

            “Oh! Look who's hiding down here under the sink!” He pulls at the cupboard door and cracks it open. JJ’s face goes blank with wonder as she leans in to look into the dark space; he watches her, unable to stifle his laugh. Then, with a jolt, he rips his hand away from the door, letting it fall shut with a _clank._ A second later, he’s shooting upright, whizzing the little girl through the air and tickling her neck. “It’s the tickle monster!” he booms and his daughter’s elated screams meet every little rush. He hurries out of the kitchen, bobbing her up and down, finally plopping her onto the couch next to his wife. Danneel joins in, tickling the girl’s legs and arms until the tiny thing can barely breathe. JJ starts to cough and wheeze and both her parents back away, letting her calm a little and catch her breath.

            In spite of her exhaustion, her eyes round as she squirms against the cushions. _“More!”_

            “No, no more.” Danneel chuckles, picking up their daughter and setting her on her lap. “You are going to cough out a lung if Daddy isn’t careful.”

            _“Hey,_ you were tickling her too!” Jensen chides, leaning over to kiss his wife. She kisses him back with a softness and sincerity that he wasn’t expecting.

            “I wanna kiss!” JJ chirps, but Jensen lingers a moment on his wife’s face. She stares at him, lovingly. _This is perfect._ This is everything he loves. He bends down and gives his daughter a big, snorting kiss on her cheek, she squeaks and curls her chin into her neck. He starts to back away when her pudgy hands reach up and grab his face. In a moment, he is being pulled in, with tiny lips pressing onto his cheek.

            A knock on the door breaks up his flawless moment. He groans and Danneel giggles. She always said he sounds like an eighty year old man when he’s frustrated. He hunches forward before finally dragging himself to his feet to bustle over to the door; arriving just as another, rapid fire knock is being dropped on it.

            “Alright! _Gah!_ Hold on!” Jensen growls as he reaches for the handle.

            As soon as it’s open, Misha is at his lips, kissing him in a panic. Hurried hands wrestle the hem of his shirt, and Jensen nearly falls backwards as the man rushes him. He wants to speak but his friend seems to be sucking the breath from his lungs. _This isn’t like him._

            “Woah! _Mish_ —” another kiss chokes him out; but he's finally able to slide his hands between their bodies to push the man away. “Misha! _Stop!”_ he roars.

            Misha backs off; his face is flushed and full of confusion, and _something else._ Jensen’s heart begins to race when he feels Danneel’s eyes burning into him. _Oh shit … oh shit, oh shit!_ He turns to look at her, mouth gaping. She’s clutching JJ, who is thankfully absorbed in her toy again and not paying any attention. He watches his wife peek down at their daughter, and he sees her shoulders soften when she too acknowledges the girl’s distraction. Jensen turns back to Misha, and freezes a bit with how white the man appears. His eyes are now pointed towards the couch, locked onto Danneel—they’re busted wide open, letting all the blue and white flood out.

            The man lets his lips bounce on silent words and Jensen remains motionless, clueless at what to do or what to say. He wants to go over and tell Danneel that he didn’t ask the guy to come over. He wants to explain that he’s just as shocked as she is and he would _never_ do anything that might upset or confuse JJ; but he also wants to ask Misha why he’s here. The man seems strange, _stranger than normal_. It’s a whole different kind of strange that makes Jensen uneasy and scared.

            “I—I’m so sorry. I, I didn’t know you …” Misha stammers. Jensen looks at him, not sure if the guy is talking to him or his wife. His friend finally looks back—his chest heaving on worried breath; his eyes squint and close tight, and he shakes his head, letting his dark, messy hair sway as he shivers. “I didn’t know she … and JJ …”

            The man seems to shrink and it’s all Jensen can do not to reach out and hug him. He wants to tell him it’s okay, even though he has no idea if it actually is.

            “I’ll go” Misha finally chokes, looking back to Danneel with a face that seems on the verge of breaking. He doesn’t turn back to Jensen. He only twists round and slinks out the open door like a beaten animal seeking safety.

            Jensen remains motionless, gawking at the empty space the man once filled. He takes a few more breaths before reaching out and shutting the door. He turns, casting a wide eyed gaze back to his wife. She mirrors him, while JJ squeezes her bear, making the thing repeat its happy song.

            Jensen erupts, his fear and shock bubbling over like a chemical reaction, “Danneel, I’m sorry! I had _no_ idea he was coming! I would _never_ do that to you or JJ, you _have to_ know that!” He rushes over to her, kneeling on the ground, as if begging for all the understanding she could give. Their daughter jumps, now watching him from her mother's lap. Jensen avoids her confused eyes. “I swear … this should have never happened. I should’ve told him you were here before, I’m so, so sor—”

            “Was he _okay_?” Danneel interrupts, and he notices she’s staring at the door.

            “ _What?”_ he breaths, still gasping on the aftermath of his pleas.

            “He didn’t _seem_ okay … he seemed pretty upset” she whispers while slowly raking her fingers through JJ's hair.

            “Well … _um,_ I know he wouldn’t have come over if he knew that you guys were here … he probably feels _really_ bad” Jensen mutters, feeling weird that he’s seemingly defending this man against his wife. He feels like he’s betraying both of them now.

            She shoots him an annoyed glare, “No, _before that._ As soon as he came in, he seemed different. There was something wrong with him.” She turns her head back to look at where Misha once stood, her eyes, wrecked with concern. “Has he ever acted like that before?” she finally asks, peering back with her question.

            Jensen gawks a little before shaking his head.

            She huffs, scrunching up her face the way she always does when she worries. “I don’t like this; you need to find out if he’s okay.”

            He leans back, unsure if he heard her right. “You—you want me to go after him?”

            Danneel looks offended. “ _Of course_ I want you to go after him! He’s obviously, really worked up over something and he came to _you_. He needs you right now, Jen.”

            Jensen is in a daze, nothing about the last five minutes makes any sense and he finds, he really just wants to just go back to bed. His head is starting to hurt from thinking about it.

            “What are you waiting for?” Danneel hisses, snapping him back to her.

            _“Um_ …”

            “Jensen, I swear to god, if you don’t go and make sure that man is alright, I am never going to forgive you!”

            In a breath, a kiss is placed on her forehead and JJ is warmed with a hug. His jacket and keys are bundled in his arms and he’s rushing out the door, not even bothering to shut it behind him.  _I_ _need to find Misha. I need to make sure he’s okay._


	19. Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            “Pick up the damn phone!” he yells, throwing his cell in the passenger seat. It’s the fifth time he’s called but Misha still isn’t answering. The guy’s car was already long gone by the time he got to the parking lot. _He couldn’t have gotten far_ , but the question is, _where_ exactly did he go? _Back to his condo maybe?_ But he knows Misha—he knows that sitting at home by himself is his least favorite thing to do. He can’t imagine that would get any better when the guy is upset. _Maybe a bar?_ There’s only one nearby, but Misha doesn’t really drink unless he’s at a party and is trying to have a good time. _No_ , he wouldn’t be getting smashed at a bar. He pulls up to a red light and tries Misha’s phone again. It rings twice and then goes back to voice mail.

            “You little bastard, you’re ignoring me now?” he groans, but he can’t really blame him. He probably thinks Jensen is pissed. He probably thinks that he’s calling to say that Danneel is a wreck, and that JJ is scarred for life; and that he wants to end _whatever it is_ they have. Jensen just needs to talk to him, and tell him that’s not true. He needs to explain that—even to _his_ surprise, everything is fine. The light turns green and in his blur of phone calls and concern, he turns right. It’s habitual. _The set is this way._ He gets about a hundred yards before he realizes what he’s doing.

            “Damnit!” he bursts, filling the cab with his frustration. He slows, looking for a place to turn around. A gas station pulls up to the right and he cuts into the drive way. After a moment, he parks; he needs to think. _Maybe I should call Jared,_ he quickly abandons the idea. Even though he knows the man would be as sensitive as possible, if he got to Misha _first,_ it just might make things worse. Jared’s sense of humor can pop up at the most awful times. An annoyed groan bubbles from his throat. _Why isn’t he answering? Why isn’t he calling back?_ He thinks again of the man’s eyes after he pushed him away. _He looked so hurt._ Jensen has never seen the guy look like that. Vicki said that he puts on a brave face a lot— _is that what’s hiding underneath?_ He feels his heart cracking. The fun-loving, always smiling-Misha that he sees on set, is only part of a man. The other part was _just_ in his living room, and he shoved him back … he didn’t even _try_ stop him from leaving.

            He wracks his brain, letting his eyes look at the space around him. His parking badge for the stages spins carelessly from his rearview. He watches it, hypnotized by the movement. _The stages._ It’s the only other place that almost feels like home to him. It's probably the same for Misha. Plus, there are always people there at all hours, even on a Saturday morning like this one; and ever since the guy directed, Misha has enjoyed going to all the small departments and lending a hand when he's bored or doesn’t have a scene to shoot. Knowing him, if he was depressed or feeling dejected, he would want to go and be useful. The stages, he _has_ to be at the stages. Jensen throws his car into reverse and whips out of the parking space, quickly zipping out of the gas station and back in the direction of the set. It takes only a few minutes before he’s pulling into the driveway, scanning his badge so the automated gate will open. As soon as it does, he sets course for the portables where the first rounds of editing take place— _that’s where other people would be_.

            There aren’t many cars around the small buildings, and none of them are the blue sedan he’s looking for. He growls, trying to think of anywhere else the man might have gone. He drives over to the sound stages, but that lot is _completely_ empty. Jensen finally turns back around, driving towards the main stage, wondering if the prop department is already setting up for Monday’s shoot. He gets there, and there are a hefty amount of cars in front, but still—no sign of his friend. He parks, deciding to get out and at least ask around. The crew could have seen him, or maybe he can have someone else call. The guy might answer the phone if it’s not Jensen’s name flashing on his screen. He steps out, looking off to the far end where the trailers are peeking from around the corner. He sees the end of his unit, and just beyond that—Jensen spots the familiar, dark nose of Misha’s car. He’s in a full sprint before he can even tell his feet to move. The trailers are soon at his side.

            “Mish?” he yells, just loud enough that if the guy _is_ around, he should hear him. “Mish, are in there?” Jensen pulls on the handle of Misha’s trailer but it’s locked. “Mish, if you’re in there, you got to let me in! I’m not mad, okay?” He looks around to make sure no one is nearby. “I’m just _worried_ … can you _please_ let me in?” He feels the trailer rock a bit and then the light clicking sound of the latch carries like music to his ears.

            The door creaks open slightly, and a pair of dulled, tired eyes peek out at him.

            “Hey, man … can I come in?” Jensen asks, already climbing up the last step and pulling at the door. Misha holds onto the handle, keeping him from opening it wider. He watches the man shake his head, finally looking away towards the darkness inside. “Mish … what’s wrong? What happened? You _need_ to talk to me, man.”

            Misha remains silent but finally lets go of the door. Jensen quickly opens it, pushing inside and re-latching it behind him. He turns to face his friend who’s already walking to the back where the bed is hidden in the curtained-dark. Jensen warily follows; unsure of what he should say, but knowing that he really wants to say _anything_ that will get the man to speak. He halts when he sees Misha turn to sit on the bed, quickly stripping off his shirt. The sight would normally excite him, he’d generally be palming at the eager bulge in his pants before rushing over to pounce on the guy—but Misha’s face is anything but thrilled. Where he typically would be staring at Jensen with bright, mesmerizing eyes, he’s looking away—and from the little slivers that he can see, the blue rings are greyed. Misha stands up again and begins fidgeting with his pants, undoing the button and dropping them to the floor. Jensen holds steady, still at a good distance, cocking his head in confusion.

            The man finally looks up, the sadness fading into a grimace. “ _Well_ , come on!” he spits and Jensen doesn’t think he’s ever heard Misha sound so harsh— _Castiel, maybe_ , but never _Misha._

            “Wh—what?” Jensen shakes, wanting to go over there, but not liking the feeling that’s living in that space.

            “This is why you’re here, right? So come on!” Misha looks down to the boxers on his hips, filing his thumb underneath the band to pull them down. Jensen is rushing to him in an instant, grabbing his wrists to stop the eventual peep show.

            “ _Mish_ …” he whispers but his friend now avoids his gaze. He can hear the heavy breath rumble in the man's throat and he feels the bones in his wrist creak against his fingers. “Mish … I didn’t come here for that. I just want to talk to you.”

            His face bunches slightly and he turns away, ripping his arm back from Jensen’s hold. Misha moves around to the other side of the bed, sitting down so his back is to him; and Jensen watches as he shivers with quiet sobs. The air in the trailer feels thick and hard to breathe; it seems unnatural, the usually goofy, grinning man is now weighed down by something unknown. Jensen hates whatever it is with every fiber of his being—he wants his friend back, _this isn’t right._ He slides over to sit beside him, wrapping his arm around the man’s bare waist, feeling the chilled skin and instantly trying to rub in some warmth. Misha pulls away a bit but Jensen holds on, yanking himself tighter into the man’s side.

            “Tell me what’s wrong” he whispers, finally resting his chin on Misha’s shoulder.

            “I _fucked up_ — _that’s_ what’s wrong” is the mumbled reply.

            “I’m sure you di—”

            “Don’t try and placate me, Jensen! I am a grown man! I know when I fucked up!”

            Jensen pulls away a little as his friend meets his eyes, thrusting a watery-fury at him from every angle.

            “Now, if we’re going to _do_ this, you better hurry. I’m sure Danneel wants you back.” Misha throws a glance to the bed.

            Jensen let’s his hand fall, “ _Seriously?_ I already told you, I didn’t come here for that!”

            “That’s what you normally come here for!” Misha hisses, locking his eyes a bit too hard on him. “I just want to give you what you need!”

            Jensen could fall over with his shock, “Do you honestly think that’s all I care about with you?”

            “What else do I got?” The sincerity in his question stabs Jensen in the gut.

            “Everything! We were friends before any of this fucking, started! We are _still_ friends now! That’s _all_ I care about!”

            Misha’s hardness melts a little, then—a little more, until he looks flattened into the mattress. “I’m—I’m sorry.” He turns back, dropping his head in his hands

            The sight makes everything worse. Jensen returns his palm to his friend’s back, rubbing soft circles into it while he searches for words to say. “Forget it man … I know you didn’t mean it.” He feels Misha tense under his touch. “Now, _please_ … tell me what the hell is going on.” A long moment passes with only silence answering his question. "Mish, please, _please_ just te-"

            “She died!” Misha spits before his body rocks with more sobs.

            “Who?” Jensen wonders, leaning in to hug onto the quivering man beside him.

            “Sarah!”

            “I—I’m sorry, man … I don’t know who that is.” Jensen feels helpless and clueless, and all around useless to anything his friend needs. He may as well be speaking a different language.

            “She died because I turned her away!”

            “Away from where? Misha, you have to give me more than that.”

            “The charity! They put in a request, for _help_ —” Misha cuts off, trying to collect himself enough to explain, but the guilt from whatever this is, is obviously too heavy.

            _“Shh_ … it’s okay, breathe” Jensen soothes, squeezing him tighter.

            Misha inhales deep and harsh, sounding slightly clearer on the return, “She—she was sick … her family put in a request for us to help.”

            Jensen pauses a moment, “And you guys turned her away?” _That certainly didn’t sound like something they would do._

            “We do background checks for the bigger projects …” he wheezes, finally sounding a bit calmer. “We looked but couldn’t find any record of her actually being in the hospital, or being sick. We contacted the family, but they didn’t respond.”

            “Okay, well …” Jensen eases up a bit, feeling like this might just all be a misunderstanding “That’s not your fault, man … if they didn’t—”

            “I thought it was a hoax!” Misha blurts again and another bout of sobs, follow.

            Jensen lets him go a few minutes before trying to speak again.

            “We get people … you know, who try to scam us. So when her friends contacted the group as well, they brought the file to me as a final say. I—I tried getting in touch with people but everything I heard back seemed off. So I—I told everyone not to work on it.”

            Jensen sighs, finally seeing this for what it was. “But it wasn’t a hoax?”

            “ _No!”_ Misha hisses, sounding more angry than sad. “No, she died last night … and this morning, I had messages from her friends, _her family_ … she needed help, and I thought they were _lying!”_ he doubles over once more.

            “ _Mish_ …” Jensen’s voice is soft, bouncing in time with the small, gentle touches of his hand. “ _You tried_ , but if it didn’t seem true at the time, and you called to check around, it would have been irresponsible to start fundraising for a girl who could have been faking it.”

            Misha explodes from his arms, “Is that supposed to make me feel better? _I tried? It would have been irresponsible?_ A girl is dead, Jensen! They came to me, because her family couldn’t afford to help her and I decided her fate after a few phone calls! Don’t you _dare_ say I _tried,_ because that was _not_ trying! She thought I could help her! She thought I could do something to help her and all I did was turn my back!”

            Jensen watches as Misha storms out to middle of the trailer, pacing back and forth the best he can in the tiny space. His mouth falls, exposing it’s emptiness— _I_ _don’t know what to say._ He _gets it_ … he can see why the guy feels so much guilt, but honestly, _what else could he have done?_ Jensen finally stands up, slowly walking over to his hurting friend. The man glances at him; his eyes still wet but his face, twisted up in anger. It hurts seeing him like this _. It hurts like hell_. He _hates_ it, and he feels bad for wanting the man to get back to normal because it would make _him_ feel better; but he does. He wants Misha to go back to how he always is— _why does the guy have to care so much?_

            Jensen stands in front of him, his hands in his back pockets because he doesn’t know where else they should go. “I know … I know you say you didn’t try hard enough, but …”

            “But what else could I have done?” Misha stops pacing to eye him, like Jensen just asked something sinful.

            He nods, looking towards the ground as he does.

            “I could have sent people out to check on her! I could have looked over the applications again, tried to find other phone numbers to call when we didn’t hear back! I could have met with her friends and got the whole story! But I just called them, and they were so wrapped up in the fact that it was actually _me_ on the line, they could barely function—so _of course_ their stories sounded off! I don’t know what I was thinking!” his voice cracks again and he brings his fingers to his eyes to pulls at the tears. He inhales, rubbing his hands over his face before finally looking at Jensen; and the look is different than all the others he’s seen so far—it’s like the last string finally snapped and all that’s left is the _now_ that Misha has to face. “She’s dead, Jen …”

            Jensen pulls him in, holding up his heavy body with all his strength, but not feeling the strain at all. It’s as if he is meant to be the hanger for the man to drape upon—he has no other purpose. Misha melts into him, crying and gripping at his shirt. As he sobs, Jensen sways, running his fingers through the man’s hair, sliding his palm across the nape of neck, slipping his arms across the width of his body—because he _needs_ to hold him together. He needs to keep his friend from falling apart. That’s all that matters right now; that’s all that will ever matter.

           

           

           

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little unsure about this chapter ... let me know what you think.


	20. Act Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Finally! I'm sorry I haven't posted anything all week! I have been managing some stuff and writing just wasn't working out until this morning! If there are errors, please let me know. I just was eager to post it!

            The cell flashes brightly from his pocket, but he ignores the glow. He can only assume it’s Danneel, calling to see if he found Misha … but answering right now would mean making the man pull away from his shoulder—making him stop talking about everything that led up to him being like _this_. Jensen can’t risk his best friend regressing.

            “It’s just been the perfect storm, you know? Everything I do, everything I touch, I just can’t seem to get it right” Misha whispers.

            “Something like this doesn’t suddenly cancel _everything_ , Mish. There’s still so much good that you do. This doesn’t take all that away.” The man stills beside him on the small bench that lines the left side of the trailer. Jensen looks away from the bedraggled top of his friend’s head—his pocket is glowing again. _Hold on!_

            “I should have helped her …”

            Jensen sighs and looks back to this man, this man who has over taken him in so many ways; he seems lighter somehow, as if he’s less than what he used to be. He knows he must be tired, they have been in here for hours just talking or sitting quietly. It tears pieces of Jensen apart just feeling his friend decrease. He reaches over while Misha is pressed hard into his side, his head draped into the curve of Jensen’s neck, and he strokes his cheek while laying a loving kiss on his head—ignoring Misha’s hair, tickling his nose. He breathes in his scent, calmed by the fact that _that_ still remains intact, even though the rest of the man seems to be falling apart; at least that _isn’t_ changing.

            “Jensen, your jeans are flashing again” Misha hums, a slight ease rushes against his words.

            “Yeah, it’s okay ...”

            “Answer it. I’ll manage without you for a minute or two.” Misha pulls away and Jensen shudders, not liking the cool air that rushes between them.

            “Really, it’s—”

            “Just _answer_ it.”

            He catches a glimpse of the man’s eyes as he scoots up on the bench, giving him plenty of room to get up to retrieve his cell; the blue in them looks tired and sad still—but dry and calm. Jensen gives in. “Fine. I’ll be back in _one_ minute, okay? _Just one_.” As Misha nods and forces a smile, Jensen hurries outside the trailer door to answer his phone, not wanting to have to talk in front of his friend when he’s still so fragile. He fishes in his pocket for a moment and extracts the shining thing, noticing the eight missed calls from his wife. A new wave of worry washes over him. _What if she’s upset I'm taking so long? What if she thinks Misha and I are … what if she’s regretting sending me after the guy?_ He hits one of the missed-call notifications to dial her back. The phone barely rings before she’s on it.

            “Did you find him?” _she sounds scared._

            “Yeah, yeah. He was on set—in his trailer.”

            “Is he okay? _What happened?”_

            Jensen sighs, glad that she doesn’t seem concerned over anything other than Misha’s wellbeing. “Well, as he says, it was _the perfect storm”_ Jensen gulps, feeling weird talking about his friend’s personal business when it’s still so fresh. “Basically, this girl was sick, and her family and friends contacted his charity, looking for help. But a bunch of their stories and paperwork didn’t add up, I guess, so he wrote it off as a scam; but the girl died last night …”

            “ _Oh_ …”

            “Yeah … and when he found out, he tried to get in touch with Vicki, but she’s on that nature retreat thing with the kids, so she’s not within cell reception—and then I guess, he tried to contact the girl’s family again, but he _still_ couldn’t reach them. And then, one of the girl’s friends sent messages for him through Random Acts, that weren’t exactly _hateful_ , I guess … well, according to him. They were just really, really hurt; saying stuff like ‘You’re not who I thought you were’ and ‘Why couldn’t you have helped her?’ It was just too much all at once, and he kind of broke down.”

            Danneel stays silent a moment, before finally sipping in a sharp breath. “Put him on the phone.”

            Jensen stones, stopping mid pace—he hadn’t even realized he’d been walking around the lot but as he freezes, he looks back to the trailer behind him, a good thirty yards away. _It still seems too close. “Uhh,_ babe … I don’t know, he’s still pretty torn up”

            “ _Exactly_ , that’s why I want to talk to him.”

            He recognizes her tone; it tells him he’s not going to win this. “Babe … I …”

            “Jensen, I swear, if you don’t put my friend on the phone …”

            He’s already on route back to the trailer before she can finish. The door swings wide as he pushes through it, illuminating Misha, still teetering on the edge of the bench. The man looks up with heavy, colbalt eyes, weighing down more as they take in the nervous expression on Jensen’s face.

            “She wants to talk to you” Jensen whispers, his hand, tight over the receiver.

            “What? _No_ …” Misha hisses, looking annoyed.

            Jensen stops a moment, wondering who he should be more afraid of pissing off ... _D_ _anneel._ He puts the phone back to his ear. “Okay, here he is.” The shining screen is quickly shoved at his friend. Jensen meets his fierce glare with his own look of desperate pleas. “C’mon man, she _really_ wants to talk to you.”

            Misha growls and stands up, looking down at himself—still only _boxers_ keeping him decent. He groans and rushes over to where he left his pants and puts them on. Jensen could almost laugh if he didn’t get it completely. It’s one thing talking to a friend on the phone while almost naked; it’s another talking to the wife of the man you’re currently sleeping with. Misha returns and yanks the cell from Jensen’s hand, sinking eyes into him that are filled with every swear word he knows. Jensen shrugs—he’s _still_ a husband after all, and an angry-Danneel is no laughing matter.

            Misha takes a deep breath before pulling the phone in close, “Hello, Danneel.”

            Jensen chokes a moment, realizing that this is the _first_ time Misha and his wife have spoken since the kitchen … since this whole, strange triangle of theirs’ began. _No wonder Misha is angry_. He used to talk to Danneel fairly regularly. The two of them share a lot in common—their twisted senses of humor being the main thing. They both get a sickening joy out of how uncomfortable they can make Jensen in just a matter of minutes … then that stopped _._ That fun, loving friendship halted when _this_ began. _This must be really strange for them._ He watches as Misha listens, noticing how the guy’s eyes are widening, how his mouth is gaping a little … how he keeps starting to make a sound, but then quickly sucks it back in.

            “Yes … but …” Misha finally blurts.

            Jensen can hear the dulled tones of his wife’s voice; he recognizes them all too well. She wants to be heard and she wants to have her directions _followed._

            “Dani, you don’t have to … _okay_ … yeah.” Misha sighs and drops back onto the bench “I know, but I just don’t want you to feel _obligat_ —” He looks up to Jensen, his annoyance morphing into absolute fear, “Okay … yeah … okay. I—I’ll tell him.”

            _Tell me what?_

            “Yeah … alright. Thank you, Danneel … Yeah, you too … Bye.” Misha pulls the phone away from his head and stares at it while the screen flashes red. Jensen doesn’t move, waiting for the report. The seconds stab at him, and the cabin of the trailer is starting to shrink. After what seems like an eternity, Misha finally turns his head to address him. “ _Apparently,_ I’m in no condition to drive, so you need to give me a lift back to your place.”

            Jensen turns his head a little, opening his mouth to ask _why,_ but finds he’s too shocked to say anything.

            Misha stands up to return the phone, his voice, edging on shaky, “I guess, I’m coming over for dinner.”

***

           

            They stand outside his condo door, both silent, staring at the handle as if it was about to pounce. Jensen can practically hear Misha’s heart smashing against his ribs. _This certainly isn’t making the guy feel any better._

            “You don’t have to come in, man. I can just tell her you were tired or got called into film or something.”

            “She is _not_ going to buy that and you know it. It’ll look worse if I don’t come in.”

            “Yeah, but …” Jensen shoves his hands in his pockets and begins inspecting the floor of the hallway, “I know that this is fucking, horrifying for _me_ —I can’t imagine how crazy it is for you and I’m sure it’s weird for Dani, too. And with all the other stuff you got going on … I just think this isn’t going to help.”

            He watches as Misha’s fingers reach out for his wrist, pulling one of Jensen’s hands free from his pocket so he could twine them together. “She seems to be okay with this, Jen. She may be feeling bad for me and all, but she wouldn’t have invited me over if some part of her wasn’t okay with this.”

            Jensen stares at their hands, melting into the feeling. His mind wanders back to the past month— _this_ has become so normal to him. Their connection, these simple touches, their quick, heated, frenzy of tongues when they finally get time alone—it’s normal when he’s here. _Yet, is that only because Danneel is literally, a country away?_ Now, she’s just on the other side of the door and Misha’s skin is _still_ drawing him in. Should it _still_ feel this normal? Will that door make a difference when it opens? _Will I be able to do this at all?_

            He hears the knob turn and he rips his hand away from the man, now cowering beside him. They both watch as Danneel pokes her head out.

            “I thought I heard someone out here!” she says cheerily, looking to Misha after a moment and softening her eyes. “Hey, Misha, how are you doing?” She’s quickly pushing past Jensen to wrap her arms around Misha’s neck. The man’s eyes round and his face writhes with question as he looks back to Jensen, who can only shrug.

            “I’m alright … _um,_ you really didn’t have to invite me over.”

            Danneel pulls away and gives Misha a glare that makes Jensen shudder. “I didn’t have to, _I wanted to_. Now shut your face and get in there! Dinner is almost ready.” She turns and moves behind them, placing a flat hand on each of their backs and shoving them inside. Their shoulders collide at the door and Danneel’s gentle giggle sings softly in the air as the smell of braised pork floods the room. Jensen could drown in the smell with a smile on his face. It’s his favorite _;_ not to mention, a meal he rarely gets, but this time, it’s not for him …

            “It smells wonderful, Dani. What is it?” Misha asks as they bustle into the living room _He sounds a little off his edge._

            “Well, Jensen should be able to tell you … I have to go make sure it all doesn’t burn!” She rushes around towards the kitchen and begins stirring and whisking like a mad woman. Jensen smiles. _She loves to cook_ , and he loves to see her happy … it wasn’t what he was expecting tonight at all.

            Misha looks to him, standing further away than he has in weeks. “ _So_ … what is it?”

            “Braised pork and potatoes.”

            “Oh, it _does_ smell really good.”

            “That’s because she makes it really good.”

            “ _Well_ … she makes it really _well.”_

            Jensen snaps his head towards his friend, whose eyebrows are raised, as if questioning whether the grammar correction, landed. “Jesus, are you Jared now?”

            Misha smiles, _“No,_ but his lessons obviously aren’t working. Maybe I’m a better teacher.”

            If it were two months ago or if he didn’t know what Misha’s mouth tasted like; if his hand didn’t still tingle with the man’s touch, if his wife wasn’t currently cooking dinner for his “lover” for lack of a better term … he wouldn’t have seen that comment as a flirtation, but he does and _he did_ and now is not the time for such a thing. His neck grows hot as he scowls at the man. _He shouldn’t be saying shit like that, not here and not now._ He watches as Misha’s momentary humor, falls. They turn back to Danneel’s impromptu cooking show, feeling rigid and uncomfortable next to one another.

            “Beer?” Jensen says finally, really only wanting to put more distance between him and the man who seems to making this more awkward by the second.

            “Yeah, sure … please.”

            He walks into the kitchen, molding a calm smile on his face when Danneel turns to look at him.

            “Oh good, I was just going to tell you to get him a drink.”

            Jensen opens the fridge, grabbing a couple of bottles before closing the door and leaning against it. “Yeah … well, hopefully this will help him relax a bit.” He watches as his wife smiles and continues stirring the wine-sauce that will go over the potatoes. His stomach begins to growl. He realizes, he hasn’t eaten since breakfast this morning. He wasn’t expecting to spend the whole day in Misha’s trailer; and so much was going on, he never thought to eat. Jensen looks down to the beers in his hands, sliding his thumb along the filmy condensation that’s building on the sides. “Dani?”

            _“Hmm?”_ his wife hums while adding salt to the pot.

            “Why are you doing all this?” It’s a question he wasn’t planning on asking while Misha was around, but he couldn’t wait any longer to know. “I know you care about him and that he’s hurting and all … but with _him_ and _me_ , you know … I just don’t want you to be putting yourself into a situation that will leave you hurting too.”

            Danneel sighs and stops stirring, taking out the whisk and laying it gently beside the stove. She turns and faces him, placing a hand on her hip and leaning forward like she’s about to send him to his room without supper. “I’m _pretty sure_ I’m a big girl, Jensen. I can figure out what’s good for me and what isn’t. Have you ever known me to purposely put myself into situations that end up screwing me over?”

Jensen keeps his eyes steady on the beers, wishing one of them were open because he could really use a drink. “Well … you _did_ when he and I were in this kitchen.” He peeks up; her face is narrowed and serious. _That was probably a mistake._

            “You’re right. I _did_ put myself into that situation, but it didn’t screw me over. The reason I’m doing _this_ ,” she flings out her arms to gesture around the kitchen, throwing a quick glance to Misha, who’s inspecting the photos on the mantle, “the reason you’re here with the guy you’re currently sleeping with, is because I’m okay with _all_ of it. _Yes_ , when things progressed so quickly, I freaked out. It was a sudden change and I sort of thought I was in control of it, and then I _wasn’t_. So it all had me spinning for a while; but, you care about him. He obviously is crazy about you, and I’m not going to be the person who makes you both unhappy by saying you need to keep apart.” She pauses a moment, making Jensen look up at her, and she takes a step towards him. “Besides, I love the guy too. He’s sweet and has an amazing heart; and _you_ are still the same person I fell in love with and nothing has changed that. So, I am doing all this because someone we both love is in a bad place and I want him to feel accepted and understood. So is that okay with you? Can I continue making our friend a nice, warm meal?”

            Jensen slumps and nods. He feels guilty now—he hates when Danneel uses her _mom-tone_ on him. She meets his eyes once more and huffs, finally going back to the cooking. He retreats, heading into the living room again to hand Misha his beer. The man takes it, still looking nervous and uncomfortable. Jensen is torn. He wants to soften his own, prickled nerves and ease the guy; and he wants to support Danneel, but the guilt over all of this, the awkwardness of this moment, the idea of his wife _really_ seeing Misha and him together like this … it’s making him angry. And the fact that he’s angry makes him feel worse. He doesn’t want to be the pessimist here, but he can’t help it. He has never handled discomfort well. He often puts his foot in his mouth and gets defensive and fairly, offensive when people push him. Right now, even though this isn’t about _him_ , he feels pushed. He feels rammed into something that is so foreign, it might as well be another universe. Danneel saying she's fine with all this didn’t help at all. If she weren’t, he could just kick Misha out and get back to some sort of normalcy. If Misha had refused to come, well, he could be eating this meal with just his wife and JJ right now … and things would be fine. But Misha didn’t refuse and Danneel made this happen, and he’s now floating through this dark space, not knowing what lies ahead. He’s angry. Misha cracks open the beer and takes a sip, staring at him a bit too long.

            “What?” Jensen spits, sounding far more aggravated then he had intended.

            “ _Nothing_ … just, are you alright?” Misha asks after looking pained in swallowing his drink.

            Jensen’s stomach knots even more. “Yeah, I’m fine.”  _I_ _feel worse now_. Misha is here to be comforted, not glared at, but he can’t control it.

            “You sure?”

            “Mish! I’m fine, just drop it!”

            Misha cowers, turning away to go sit on the couch. As he does, Jensen sees the hurt come back into his eyes; the same hurt that he saw this morning when they were on set. _Why am I acting like this? It’s not the guy’s fault that he’s here; he didn’t ask to come over. Danneel made him, and this isn’t her fault either. She just wants to help him out._ He turns away and downs the rest of the bottle, hoping it will calm the roiling guilt bubbling in his gut. _It doesn’t._ It makes it worse. He looks at the pictures on the mantle. Happy smiles and memories wash over him through the glass panes. _These were all from before._ Every photo is part of a different life, one that was easy and normal, and didn’t leave him feeling like _this_. _He_ walked away from those times—that’s on _him_. Jensen realizes, he’s just angry with himself. This is _his_ fault.


	21. Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter? What? I know! It's been forever! I'm sorry ... but I have a good excuse, I was at SFCon, experiencing real Cockles-- thus my new banner for this story! So, I think you all should be able to forgive me. I promise though, at least two new chapters per week from here until the end of the story. Scouts honor!

            “Blackbird singing in the dead of night …”

            JJ’s eyelashes are already twitching against the chubby curve of her cheeks—she didn’t need a song tonight. The little girl usually sleeps pretty well when she’s here. Jensen thinks it’s due to jetlag and time changes; and after long days on set, he’s usually thankful that his daughter isn’t sitting in the middle of her bed, begging her daddy to sing. But tonight, he would have loved to have her demand all of his attention. His sweet, baby girl is effortless. All he ever has to be to her, is her daddy. As long as he’s here, making sure she’s safe, she’s healthy, she’s happy overall … nothing has to change; unlike the world outside his daughter’s bedroom door. Out there, there’s nothing familiar except for faces and tones of voice. The words being exchanged seem stiff, and the conversations dance around a herd of stampeding elephants running about the room. _No,_ he’d much rather be in here, singing his daughter a song, even though she’s already asleep … even though she doesn’t need it. It will make _him_ feel better if he does.

            “Take these broken wings and learn to fly,

            All your life …”

            He sings low, but he pitches his voice higher, as if it were being carried on those wings and it sails into the tepid dark in the corners of the room.

            “You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

            Jensen hums through the pauses, closing his eyes and letting his body vibrate with the notes.

            “Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

            Take these sunken eyes and learn to see …”

            The words itch into his brain, crawling up the back of his throat from a space he covered up years ago. This wasn’t _his_ song to sing, it hasn’t been for a while. He lost claim of it the moment he heard another voice rumble through its words, giving them new depth—new meaning. Misha said he would sing this song to West to get him to sleep as a baby, and then Maison began requesting it after she heard him sing it in the car. Numerous days passed on set where Jensen could hear the man speaking low and breathy around the black wings of the souring bird. He had to let the song go after that, knowing it had a new nest, set in dark, haphazard hair.

            “All your life,

            You were only waiting for this moment to be free.”

            He could have sung another song to JJ, one of the many that the girl loves to hear. He could have filled the air with anything that _he_ wanted, knowing that she would never notice while lost in dreams; but no other song fit in his mouth. Only one could carry across his tongue. Only one was familiar enough to ease him. He needed words that reminded him exactly of who Misha was … who he still should be—why he turned over everything in his life just to peer further into the man. There is a haunting, beautiful, mystery to this song—to his friend.

            “Blackbird fly …

            Blackbird fly …

            Into the light of a dark, black night.”

 

            Jensen steps back and drops into the chair just off the head of JJ’s bed. He digs into his eyes with the heel of his hand. He wants to stop, stop singing, stop feeling torn, stop hating change because he knows, in all honesty, _this_ change is going about as well as he could have ever hoped. His wife is currently in that living room, sharing a drink with his best friend, and they are talking about life, and the day’s events as if there were nothing else in the world to focus on. Maybe _that’s_ why it’s bothering him so much. They are looking at the “now”. They are worrying about that girl’s family, all the things Misha can to do to fix things, how the charity will be affected—but they aren’t talking about what’s lingering in the air between them all. Throughout dinner, it almost seemed like Misha and Danneel didn’t _need_ to talk about it. They were fine; but Jensen couldn’t understand how that could be even remotely true. He understood that more important things might needed to be discussed first, but to not acknowledge _this_ at all, it seemed like a lie. He feels like his every thought is trapped in the middle of a minefield, and to even blink around a subject will make him explode. He just needs them to recognize for one second, that this is strange. Jensen needs them to at least admit that if they were all a little stronger, a little less curious, than none of this would have happened. Nothing would have had to change. He hums through the next few lines, staring out into the pale purple of JJ’s wall.

            “You were only waiting for this moment to arise …”

            Something inside his chest cracks. He thinks of the alternative again, needing the experimentation … to dwell on this all never happening. He thinks about Misha, staying just far enough away … about never tasting the man on his tongue. His lungs stab. His ribs lurch. Jensen eats up the abuse. He thinks about the murderous “what ifs” in unison. _What if he never had those dreams? What if he only saw me as a friend? What if Danneel had never pushed this? What if nothing changed from what it used to be?_ The attack against his heart bends him forward, making his body heave and his eyes burn. _What if I never got to see where this goes?_ The water brinks on the edge of his lash-line, highlighted as a sliver of light breaks through the opening door.

            Two, fierce, blue eyes stare at him, looking ragged and warm all at once. The battle in his chest halts. The door pushes open a little further and the man slides through, closing it behind him. Jensen feels his ribs mend, and the bruises on his lungs fade. Misha slips over, settling himself atop his own, crossed legs on the floor beside Jensen. He watches as his best friend looks over to JJ’s bed, smiling at the tiny, curled head that pokes out from beneath the covers. The cobalt glow draws back up to him, and Jensen feels it fill him up. The war is washed away, drowned in something that he hasn’t known very long, but feels to be more part of him than his own skin. Jensen drops his head down, looking at his feet and catching glimpses of Misha’s bent knee on the floor beside him.

            “Blackbird singing in the dead of night …”

            Jensen sings again and he hears his friend’s breath hitch.

            “Take these broken wings and learn to fly …”

            One of Misha’s hands slide onto the calf of Jensen's leg, and he uses it to pull his body in closer to the side of the chair. Jensen keeps the ground locked in his sights, even though he feels the blinkless stare of his friend, burrowing into his ear.

            “All your life …”

            The words seep through him, warming him to the marrow; he feels Misha’s heavy hand, gripping tighter onto his leg, he feels the man’s breath drift across the skin of his arm as he leans in with every one of Jensen’s melodic notes.

            “You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”

            Misha lowers his head down, until his forehead is resting just below Jensen’s wrist. The heat of the man’s tears steam onto the hair covering his freckled skin. His friend tightens his hold, shaking softly against him. As the man quivers at his feet, Jensen solidifies, settling back into the role he knows, the role he loves to play more than anything. He straightens out, reaching across his body to run his other hand through the man’s hair. Misha curls his head into the touch, and lets a few more quiet tears fall.

            “Blackbird singing in the dead of night …”

            Jensen looks at his friend, feeling the sudden urge to lull him to sleep, let his voice rock the man away, so this day will finally be behind him. He wants to take care of him, just like JJ, just like Danneel. If Misha needs him, Jensen wants to be needed. He slides off the edge of the chair and nestles into the space between the plush, cushion and the man’s body, letting one support him while he wraps his arms around the other. Misha, falls into his hold in one, graceful tilt. The darkness mulls them over, finally deciding to soften all their edges until they look like a single, solid being in the night.

            “I’m sorry, Mish.” He feels the man twist a little in his grip, as if wanting to pull away and look at him, but Jensen doesn’t allow him to move.

            “For what?” Misha whispers, sounding surprisingly calm in spite of the tears taking purchase of his ducts.

            “For being an ass at dinner—for not talking, for thinking all this is so weird ... and then taking it out on you.”

            Misha sighs, making his body relax further into his. “I know … I know you don’t like change, Jen … and _this_ , this is all pretty odd; so I understand how having it all come clashing together under your own roof would be jarring.”

            _“Jarring_ is a light way of putting it.”

            Misha laughs, sending a deep, bouncing sound through the shadowed static of the room.

            Jensen looks back towards JJ’s bed, suddenly tensing at the thought of the little girl waking up and seeing her daddy, hugging _Uncle Mish_ like this. Honestly, he knows that’s exactly how she would see it—just as a hug. She has seen them embrace a million times, but he somehow feel like this time would be wrong for her to witness. It would feel wrong for anyone—Jared … Danneel, but especially JJ. The darkness turns on him, growing suffocating and thick. He scurries up, knocking Misha back as he clamors to his feet.

            “We should probably get out of here … so we don’t wake her up” Jensen hisses, feeling that same, defensive anger creep back into his tone, even though he had just apologized for letting it come in the first place.

            He can’t see him, but he somehow feels Misha nod. He feels his friend’s eyes turn downward, and away from him—no longer letting him swim in their ease, because the ease is washing away. Jensen flooded it with his constant need to be pointed and scared of the uncertainty in each moment he’s experiencing. The man rises to fill the air next to him, quickly moving away and towards the door. He is soon squinting against the blaring light of the hallway as Misha slides through the opening. Jensen turns back and looks at his daughter, motionless—knowing that she probably won’t move for another few hours. Knowing that he and the man would have been safe; knowing that nothing but his own worry just pushed Misha away

***

            “Jensen, if you don’t stow whatever crap you have going on long enough to make him feel better, I swear …”

            “You think I want to be feeling like this? I don’t even know what _this_ is enough for me to get a handle on it!”

            Danneel pushes him back further down the hall, looking over her shoulder, making sure Misha is out of earshot. “I’ll tell you what this is Jensen, it’s that same thing that happened before we moved in together. It’s the same thing that you went through just before JJ was born—it is the same thing you deal with every time your life gets switched up from the norm. I swear to god, if I didn’t love you so much, I would have probably left you seven times already because this is your worst quality.”

            Jensen pulls into himself, wanting to argue but feeling too hurt to try. Danneel never speaks to him like this, and the edge in her voice slices through him all too easily. He folds his arms across his body, hugging his anger in, and turning away to conceal the sheen on his eyes.

            Danneel deflates a little, hanging her head as her neck loosens. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that, okay? All I’m saying is, whenever you feel like you don’t have full control over something, you freak out and you get … _difficult_ , and right now … you are doing that. But you’re not doing that to me … you’re doing that to _him_ and he isn’t used to this like I am. And even if he was, he has enough to deal with right now. Do you really want to make his day harder by acting like him just being here is rubbing you the wrong way?”

            Jensen stays turned—closed off and quiet.

            Danneel slides her hand over his elbow and into the crook of his arm, giving him a squeeze. “I promise, we will go over exactly how times like this are going to work, okay? We will figure out how to split up time with me, and time with him—how we can manage all spending time together without it being awkward. We can work that all out until you feel like you can control it down to the second, but … _now_ … you need to go in there, swallow every reflexive, aggressive thing you want to say, and _hold_ that man.”

            He turns back, staring at his wife, unsure if he misheard her, or if she was actually being serious. Her eyes are urging and certain. “But …” he mumbles, looking over her head and towards the back of Misha’s as the man sits on the couch in the living room, just outside the mouth of the hall. “But, you …”

            “ _I_ am telling you to do this, Jensen.” Danneel pulls herself in closer, teetering up on her toes to kiss him on the side of his mouth. He pushes into her lips.

            “But JJ …”

            “ _She’s fine_. It’s not like you guys are going to go at it with her around—you would never risk her seeing anything inappropriate. You don’t even like _me_ getting too touchy feely with her in the room, so I have confidence that you won’t slip up with Misha.”

            Jensen lets his mouth open a moment, hovering on another argument, but unsure of what it might be.

            Danneel rolls her eyes and gives him one more, quick peck on the cheek. “Jensen, please … I’m fine. Our daughter is fine, and _you_ are fine. The only one who isn’t right now is Misha—go make him fine too.” With that, she pulls her hand away from Jensen’s arm and moves around him, pushing him up towards the living room.

            Jensen finally stumbles away from her touch, peering back to see his wife, gesturing him forward. He must look terrified because she mouths “it’s okay” as he scuttles towards the couch. With a deep breath, he walks around to stand in front of Misha, who’s sitting rigid against the back pillow, with his hands in his lap. His blue eyes drag along Jensen’s body, finally halting on his face.

            “I should probably go. I don’t want to keep you and Dani up.”

            Jensen feels the guilt pound his insides. “No … no, you aren’t keeping us up …” he takes another, hard breath “and you’re not going anywhere.” He finally balls up his fear and swallows it down; letting the sloshing bile in his stomach eat it away.

            “It’s alright, Jen … you guys have already been so hospitable. I really don’t want to put you out any longer.” Misha starts to lift himself off the couch and Jensen sits down rapidly beside him, pulling the man back into his chest, like he had been on the floor of his daughter’s room.

            “You aren’t going anywhere, okay? You’re staying here with me tonight.”

            He feels Misha try to wrench away again, and Jensen almost lets him, feeling too exposed by the burning lamps around his living room, but Danneel’s determined eyes flood his mind. He yanks the dark haired man in tighter, breathing him in as he does. Misha doesn’t speak. He doesn’t try to move … he stays exactly where Jensen has put him.

            “Is Dani okay with that?” he sounds scared.

            “Her idea” Jensen whispers into Misha’s dark, tickling hair.

            “Oh” sadness fills the word.

            Jensen chuckles a little, thinking the man sounds like JJ when she doesn’t get her way—she doesn’t scream, really or cry. She just sounds so hurt that she usually ends up getting what she wants because Jensen feels like her sadness could break him to pieces. A heavy hand is soon gliding over Misha’s spine, feeling every firm muscle that rolls beneath the cotton. Jensen closes his eyes and tilts his head into his friend’s “It's a really, good idea, man.”

            Misha’s smile warms his skin as it slides along the front of his shirt. They sit there in silence a moment before Misha shifts and melts deeper across Jensen’s body until their intertwined on the couch. After another minute, he feels the man sip in some air and wriggle a little, as if dancing on words he doesn’t know how to say.

            “Could you …” his friend’s voice is so small, he can barely catch the trickling notes “could you sing some more?”

            Jensen smiles, leaving a soft kiss on Misha’s scalp before winding his mind back between black feathers and mended wings.

***

            The soft jab against his ribs makes him jolt; finally fluttering his eyes open to see the roof of his living room stretched out above his head. The morning sun is streaking across it, telling him that is has to before eight. Another prod lands against his chest and Jensen twists a little, cursing under his breath. He attempts to move, but there’s a weight bearing across his middle. He peers down, his eyes still blurred with sleep—Misha’s legs are stretched over his, and his body is scooted down so his rear is pressed hard into the side of Jensen’s thigh. The man must have splayed out across him in the middle of the night. With a soft push, he tries to slide from beneath his friend’s limbs, but they’re too heavy, and he doesn’t want to wake him up.

            “God damnit” he mumbles, dipping back and settling once more into his worn spot on the couch. Another poke grazes his bottom two ribs. Jensen finally looks over towards his friend’s face on the other end of the sofa, wondering what the man is dreaming about to make him so fidgety. Little, hazel eyes meet his green. Jensen trails the space between him and Misha’s head, now filled with his daughter’s, tiny, pajama clad body. One of his friend’s arms is gripping her tight, protecting her even in the midst of his dreams.

            Jensen opens his mouth to speak, but JJ pokes him again. _“Shh,_ daddy. Uncoo Mish is seeping.”


	22. Just Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            It’s the third morning in a row he’s found her out in the living room. Misha stayed over the last few nights, so they pulled out the air mattress for him—but every morning, there’s JJ. The little girl somehow wriggles beneath the man’s arm, usually accompanied by a book or a large, stuffed toy. She’ll lay there, happily muttering to herself … creating pretend, little stories, perfectly content with being still and quiet as to not wake up her favorite, Uncle Mish. Jensen looks down on them now, wondering if she even _could_ wake him up. He knows that West and Maison normally end up in their parents’ bed at some point during the night; and he knows how rambunctious those kids can be. The stories his friend tells about waking with a plastic dinosaur stabbing his eye, or a bowl of half eaten cereal, spilling onto his lap makes him think that _his_ daughter might be a welcome break from the norm.

            “Sweetie, do you want some breakfast?” Jensen asks, finally moving close enough to catch his daughter’s attention.

            She casually glances up from the _Monster’s_ _Inc_. coloring book she’s working on, giving her daddy look that he feels is all, too adult. “ _Porridge_?”

            Jensen smiles and gives her a nod; ever since she learned the story of Goldilocks, oatmeal is known as _porridge_ in their house. “Sure thing, kiddo. C’mon—be careful you don’t wake up your uncle. The guy’s tired.”

            JJ gives him an offended glare. “I’m carefoo”

            “Yes, you are _very_ careful, sweetie. I know … what was I thinking?” Jensen returns, playfully.

            He watches as the little girl slides slowly from beneath Misha’s elbow, padding softly over his limb and off the edge of the mattress in a way that barely causes the thing to move. Misha doesn’t even flinch, he just lets out a deeper, slow breath— _he sounds eased_ , a far cry from the first night he was here. That initial morning, when Jensen woke up to find JJ in the man’s arms, he panicked. He was certain she would put it all together somehow or at least, start asking why both her daddy and her uncle were sleeping in the same place. Jensen managed to squirm free, attempting to yank his daughter away once he did … but she wouldn’t leave. She clutched tightly to Misha’s arm, who again—was fast asleep and in no danger of being roused. Jensen finally gave up and got Danneel, hoping that she could use her stern-mommy face to make the child cooperate. Danneel however, thought the whole thing was too cute to disrupt. Their computer is now filled with about a hundred photos of their daughter, curled alongside his best friend, like he’s the safest place she’ll ever be.

            It wasn’t until Misha finally did wake, that Jensen started to feel better about the whole thing. The man was surprised to find JJ there as well, asking her where she came from and why she didn’t want to snuggle with her daddy instead. That’s when JJ smiled, and hugged the man’s neck, finally pulling away and cupping his face with her tiny, pudgy hands.

            “You cry, Uncoo Mish. You were sad.”

            Misha’s face turned red as he stared at JJ’s soothing expression. “I—I was _crying_?”

            The little girl nodded and pointed at his eyes. “These were wet … with water”

            Jensen watched as those large, blue orbs got damp once more.

            “You were sad. Hugs help ‘da sad” JJ said matter-of-factly, hugging the man again.

            He hugged her back hard, squeezing her until she giggled. “They certainly do help _the_ _sad_. Thank you sweetheart.”

            Jensen stopped worrying. He pretty much had to, since his baby daughter was leading a better example than he was. She knows what’s important. She knows that if someone she loves is hurting, she should do whatever is needed to make them feel better. Apparently, she heard Misha crying—something that even _he_ didn’t catch and he was right beside the man; but she heard it and decided that he needed a hug, so she snuggled right in, and held onto him until he stopped.

 

            “One bowl of porridge, with a banana on top and some brown sugar—for the lovely, young lady at table, number one” Jensen hums, dancing around his daughter’s chair, holding the bowl up high like a waiter, finally placing it on the table in front of her.

            She smiles up at him and licks her lips before looking down at the bowl. “Tank you!”

            Jensen crouches beside her seat, reaching out to tilt her chin up with his fingers. “It’s TH-ank you, sweetie. You got to put your tongue between your teeth, like _this_.” He models the behavior and she copies, grinning wide while doing so to exaggerate the action. Jensen nods. “Okay, now try it.”

            “ _Th-ank_ you!” she sputters, looking very pleased with herself the moment the sound reaches her own ears.

            “At’a girl!” Jensen leans in and kisses her frizzy head, feeling a new pride bubble through his body as he stands back up.  _I'm_ _a damn lucky man_.

            “Can you make Maison do that? She usually just ends up spitting all over me.” Jensen whips around to see Misha, sitting up on the mattress and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His voice is low and gravelly, causing a slight pinch to occur below Jensen’s belt. Misha turns to him and smiles. His hair is sticking up and he has somehow grown a pretty, decent beard overnight. He looks like an extra from _Lost_.

            “Dude, seriously, how do you grow a beard so quickly?” Jensen asks, rubbing the thin stubble that sprouted on his own chin.

            Misha feels his face and then shrugs, “I think I’m actually part werewolf. My mother must have found me in the woods.”

            JJ laughs and Jensen looks down to see his daughter, smiling big in his friend’s direction. Little bits of porridge are speckling the corners of her mouth.

            Misha grins back at her, quickly crawling from beneath the sheets and scurrying off the mattress. “I get pretty hungry in the mornings, and I think a little JJ-bird would make a delightful breakfast!” He rushes over and tickles the girl’s sides, making her squeal and spit a grainy mess across her lap and the glass tabletop. His daughter laughs harder as she sees the sludge, splattered out in front of her. Soon, she’s smearing is everywhere with her open hand, like it’s a new medium of art.

            Jensen groans. “Good, that’s _great_ , Mish. Let’s get oatmeal everywhere. That’s an awesome lesson to teach my kid.”

            Misha straightens out and glares at him, thinning his eyes as he does “Oatmeal-art is in _very_ high demand, Jensen …”

            “Porridge!” JJ corrects.

            “Yes, right … _porridge_ art is in very high demand, Jensen. You shouldn’t try to stifle your daughter’s talents. You don’t want her to grow up to be a hack like her father.”

            Jensen rolls his eyes. _How do I always end up being the butt of all the jokes?_ Misha grins at him before looking back to JJ and tousling the mess of curls that are springing off her head. She bounces a little with the attention and then returns to her breakfast. Jensen finds himself smiling, realizing for maybe the first time, how easy this all is; loving the fact that everyone seems truly happy, even though the dynamic is all, very different now.

            “Have _you_ had breakfast yet?” Misha rumbles, walking past Jensen and into the kitchen.

            “No, I was just going to eat some cereal.”

            Misha scrunches up his face before shaking his head. “No, you’re not going to do that. I am going to make you guys some _actual_ breakfast, and you are going to think you’ve died and gone to breakfast heaven, because my breakfast-making abilities rival those of any five-star chef.”

            Jensen laughs and folds his arms across his chest, letting his eyes grow wide in mock-wonder. “Oh, well … by all means, _wow_ me with your breakfast talents!”

            “Oh, I’ll _wow_ you! I’ll wow the pants off you!”

            Both men freeze a moment, shooting looks to JJ, as if she would somehow know that there could be truth in that last remark. The little girl stares at her spoon, watching as another dollop of porridge falls from its edge and splatters onto the glass. An airy, oblivious giggle fills the air—as sweet as the sugar in her bowl.

***

            “Are you ready to go, cutie-pie?” Genevieve sings while reaching out for JJ’s hand. The little girl grabs it excitedly, jumping as she walks.

            “Thank you again for taking her with you guys. She wasn’t able to sleep, she was so happy.”

            “Shep was the same way last night—which is going to suck in a few hours when he’s tired and grumpy, but _oh_ _well_. Hopefully he’ll sleep in the stroller” Jared laughs, looking back down the hall at his two boys as they race each other across the carpet.

            Danneel bends down and straightens JJ’s jacket, zipping it up a little tighter. “Now, you’re going to be a good girl for Aunt Gen and Uncle Jared, right?”

            JJ nods, still bouncing in place.

            “And no matter what animals you see at the zoo, you’ll stay right beside them and hold their hands, right?”

            JJ nods again, looking up to Gen, grinning so big that her face might split.

            “And you’re going to help me watch all these crazy boys, right?” Gen asks, shaking the girl’s arm.

            “Yes! Yes! Yes!” JJ squeals, apparently excited to have a job on top of a zoo-trip.

            “Good! I need all the help I can get! Us girls got to stick together!”

            Danneel stands up and Jensen takes her place, crouching in front of their daughter to give her a kiss and a hug. “I love you, sweetie. Have fun.”

            “I love you, Daddy!” she chirps, squeezing her little arms around his neck.

            Jensen finally pulls away and straightens out, looking to his best friend and his wife standing in the doorway. They had been planning a trip to the zoo for a while now, but their schedules never seemed to mesh. Last week they called and everything was panning out—until Jensen was needed back to set and Danneel had been cast, last minute for a show that would keep her on conference calls with the directors most of the day. JJ was already so excited though, and thankfully, Jared and Gen didn’t mind taking on one more.

            “Boys! Don’t go into the stairwell! Boys!” Jared booms, trying to look stern, but Jensen laughs, thinking the guy looks more constipated than anything. “God damn— _Boys!_ ” Soon, the giant man is rushing down the hall, scooping up his sons and tossing them over his shoulders. They laugh and kick the air as he powers back towards Jensen’s front door. “We better go before these two kill themselves.”

            Gen nods and rolls her eyes. “Wish us luck!”

            “You don’t need luck, this little girl is going to whip those rowdy boys into shape, right?” Jensen asks, bending over once more to poke JJ in the stomach. She giggles and bounces her head up and down.

            “My hero!” Gen swoons.

            After some goodbyes and quickly plotted dinner plans, the condo is quiet again. Jensen had gotten used to a full house—with Misha there as well as JJ and Danneel, the chaos was pleasant; however, when Misha left at the start of the week to head back home to meet Vicki and the kids, Jensen found he missed the noise. Now with JJ gone too, the static is deafening.

            Jensen turns to his wife who’s currently cleaning up the aftermath of getting their daughter ready. “When’s your first call?”

            “In an hour. I figured I’d take some time to go over the script while I wait.”

            Jensen nods and looks towards the ground. He doesn’t have to be on set until noon. He begins wondering what he can do to fill the gap. Danneel walks by, smiling at him and patting his rear before she disappears down the hall towards their room. As he listens to the door close, the low vibration of his phone catches his ear. Jensen walks over to the coffee table to look at the screen of his cell, seeing a new text from Misha, roll across the glass.

            “You on set yet?”

            Jensen smiles and opens up the message, sitting down before he writes his reply. “Not yet, don’t have to be there until noon.”

            It only takes a second for Misha to respond. “Oh cool. I’m back in Vancouver. Can I stop by?”

            Jensen feels himself squirm in his seat … it certainly would be more enjoyable to kill time with his friend instead of by himself. “Sure thing. Dani is here, just FYI” Another minute and then his phone pulses in his palm.

            “Damn, I had something fun in store for you … guess it’ll have to wait.”

            Jensen feels himself bulge and he looks back down the hall, catching sight of the bedroom door— _still closed_. “Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

            Two more, long, agonizing minutes pass before Misha decides to text back. “Why would I want to ruin the surprise by telling you?”

            Jensen grins, reclining a little to palm his now, aching cock. “Wouldn’t it be more torturous to give me a hint and then make me wait?”

            The reply is almost immediate. “Good point.”

            He waits some more, wondering if he still has to beg.

            “I went shopping.”

            Not quite what he was expecting but Jensen quickly lets his mind wander to what that could mean.

            “I think you’ll like what I got.”

            “Well if you want, you can still come over and see if I can guess.” Jensen’s finger hovers over the “send” button. He wants so badly to see the man, to feel him, even if it’s only a glancing touch in the moments that Danneel is out of sight. He would love to get more, but with his wife around, he knows that’s not really a possibility. He sends the message.

            “I’ll be there in twenty.”

            He sets down the phone before getting up and walking through the hall. He taps lightly on the door, opening it after another second to see Danneel, sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching a script tightly in her hands.

            “Hey, so … _uh,_ Mish just texted me.”

            “Oh yeah?” she says without looking up, still very engrossed in her lines.

            “Yeah, um … he’s back in Vancouver and he asked if he could drop by.”

            “Uh huh.” Her voice is sounding a little agitated. He knows she’s trying to focus but he doesn’t want to piss her off by not letting her know exactly what’s going on.

            “He, _well_ … said he had a surprise for me.” Jensen swallows thickly, watching as his wife finally pulls her gaze from the papers in front of her.

            “A surprise, huh?” A wicked smirk coats her lips.

            Jensen eases. “Yeah, I don’t know if I should be worried or not.”

            In a moment, Danneel is hopping off the bed and slinking to his side. “Well, it is Misha, it could be _anything_.”

            “Exactly. He’s into some pretty weird shit.”

            “You might like his weird shit, though” Danneel coos, sliding her hand up his arm.

            The touch surprises him and he looks down into her eyes, watching the lust boil beneath their golden rims. “ _Oh_ …”

            “Oh, what?” she hums, perking up to kiss his neck.

            “Oh … you’re _uh,_ you’re _liking_ this again.”

            Danneel pulls away with pout playing on her face. “I never really _stopped_ liking it, I was just caught off guard by the whole thing. I told you that.”

            “Yeah, I know … I just didn’t think you would be as into it now that—” Jensen cuts himself off, unsure of what he was going to say. He knows whatever it was, it might send his wife reeling—but it would probably shock him even more.

            “Now that you’re really serious about him?” Danneel’s face is soft, kind— _understanding_.

            Jensen holds his breath as he stares at her, as if her face might change. As if it will turn to pure rage any second now that he’s all but admitting it … he’s in love with the guy.

            She sighs and smiles tenderly, letting her eyes drop to his chest while her hand meets her gaze and smooth gently over his heart. “In all honesty, it’s probably the sexiest thing in the world to watch you love something, Jensen—how you love your job, your friends, our daughter … _me_. The fact that you’ve fallen for him couldn’t be anything _but_ a turn on.” She looks back up, her smile widening into a grin. “Now, go and wait for your guy, and let me know if you need me to make myself scarce.”


	23. Watching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            The next fifteen minutes drag by. Jensen paces around his living room, walking up to the door, peeking through the peep hole. Still no sign of his bed headed co-star. He continues pacing.

            “He’s late” Jensen finally grumbles as his kitchen clock shows twenty _one_ minutes have passed since Misha’s text. One more inches by and he throws up his hands to match that of the clock. “ _Really_? C’mon!”

            “What did you say, babe?” Danneel calls out from the bedroom.

            “Nothing, just … Misha’s late!” he hollers back, shooting angry glares at the cruel, eyeless face in the kitchen.

            “Like by what? Two minutes?”

            Jensen flushes. “Doesn’t matter, he’s still late.” He grumbles the words and grows redder when he realizes that his wife still heard them.

            “Well, can you have a quieter meltdown? I don’t have much time left to run through this!”

            Jensen huffs to himself, not responding—he knows the question was rhetorical. A knock on the door makes his expression flip round. In a second, he’s swinging it open, in another, he’s yanking the man inside. The door is quickly slammed shut and Misha’s back is being pushed against it. Jensen falls flush with his body, letting his tongue slide between his friend’s lips, soaking up the taste that hasn’t graced it for well over a week. He expects Misha to try to wriggle away, to at least make him pause so he can assess the situation, but he doesn’t. The man only slides his hands up his chest until they caress his neck and cradle his jaw—feeling every little twitch as Jensen works into the kiss. They press further into one another, gripping harder, groaning into the other’s mouth while letting recycled air fill each other’s lungs. Jensen thrusts his hips forward as he lets his hands fall to the hem of Misha’s shirt. Soon, his palms are sliding along the man’s soft skin. He aches with the feeling, pushing his waist in again and letting Misha feel his hard cock, struggling against the denim of his jeans. The man returns the motion, and Jensen shudders when his friend’s obvious excitement rubs against his own. He begins to fade, squeezing his eyes tighter as he loses himself in every, overwhelming sensation. He takes a moment to go through each one, focusing on it and letting it fill him until he drowns.

            Jensen can feel Misha’s heartbeat through his palms as they cup his neck—it’s fast but steady, giving him a rhythm to move to. He turns to the taste heavy in his mouth. It’s faintly shrouded in mint and something else-pleasant, but distant. Jensen dances his tongue along the soft, slip of his friend’s … eager to figure out what else he can taste. Misha grinds against his thigh and Jensen’s mind shifts, loving how he can detect Misha’s tip as it presses artfully through his corduroys. His friend removes one hand from Jensen's jaw and slides it down until a thumb is hooking into his belt loop; with one, aggressive pull, Jensen’s hips are quickly colliding with Misha’s. The force shocks him, making him finally pause and jerk away. Misha lowers his chin to his chest and stares at him from beneath his brow, a predatory glaze crawling over his eyes, and Jensen is nothing more than an animal with a broken leg.

            “You want to know what your surprise is?” Misha growls, reaching out to undo the button of the taller man’s jeans.

            Jensen’s tongue pokes out to lick his lips, and the small act catches the man’s eye—he nods and licks them again, loving how the cobalt glows as it watches his mouth.

            Misha finally looks up and grins, pushing him back towards the couch. Jensen falls onto the cushions with one more, forceful shove from his friend. The man towers over him, keeping their eyes locked as his unzips his own pants and lets them fall to the floor. His boxers are tented and Jensen struggles with where to look; but Misha pulls his eyes to his once more as he crawls over to straddle him. He stays sitting upright, making Jensen crane his neck back to keep him in focus. His friend’s soft hands glide over his own, gripping them and dragging them behind until Jensen’s arms are wrapped around Misha’s waist. The man then works blindly to slide Jensen’s fingers beneath the band of his boxers, giving him full purchase of his firm, meaty trunk. Jensen grabs hold instinctively, getting two hefty handfuls, using them to pull himself up to meet Misha in the middle for another kiss. He lets his palms massage and pull at his friend’s ass, working his fingers closer to the center with each grip. After another squeeze, he feels something hard graze his knuckle. Jensen pulls away, staring up at Misha—who is grinning evilly once more.

            “Do you—do you have something in your _ass?”_

            Misha laughs and cups Jensen’s face again, sliding his fingers across the stubble on his chin. “You have such a way with words. Dani must be constantly bending her ears to listen to you.”

            Jensen’s eyes burst wide and he glares back to Misha, whose face melts into his own awareness. He’s climbing off of him before he's even told to. In another second, Jensen is upright, refastening the button on his jeans and heading towards the hall to tell his wife that he may just need her to get scarce after all… he isn’t quite sure how _that’s_ going to go. He powers forward, finally looking up as he gets to the edge of the carpet—stopping abruptly when a slender, flawless body is standing in his way. Jensen swallows his tongue as he looks at his wife. Her face is flushed and her chest is heaving a little. She peers up at him and then just beyond. Jensen turns to see Misha standing at the edge of the couch, still in boxers but thankfully, not quite so tented anymore. The man is bright red and frozen in place. His eyes are busted open and staring at Danneel.

            “ _Babe_ …” Jensen begins, turning back to look at her.

            She draws her gaze back to Jensen, letting the seconds pass slow and subtle as she waits for him to finish.

            “We sort of got carried away, but _uhh_ … we can stop.”

            “No!” she yelps, looking nearly as panicked as Misha. Her face softens after another moment. “No, _don’t_ _you_ _dare_.”

            Jensen watches as his wife pushes up to kiss him. It’s slow and sensuous, nothing like the frantic kiss he had just shared with his friend, but still incredibly arousing. His hands switch to autopilot, moving around to slide down her back and pull her in like he always does.

            She slips away just as quick. “ _Nope_ , this isn’t about me right now.” And with that, she frees herself from his grip, sliding her hands down his arms as she walks around towards the couch. Misha is still unmoving, staring at her like she’s a train barreling towards him and he has no time jump from its path. Danneel floats breezly over to his best friend. She teeters up on her toes and grazes a light kiss across his lips, snapping him out of his daze. He turns to look at her, blinking rapidly before shooting a glance back over to Jensen. Jensen stays still at the edge of the hall, wondering why it just turned him on like no other to watch his wife kiss his friend. The idea probably would have infuriated him before, but now—seeing the two people who can get to him like no one else … the two people who know just how to make him melt, seeing them _together,_ he nearly loses it right there.

  
            She takes Misha’s arm and walks him to Jensen’s side. Danneel smiles up at her husband before lacing her free hand with his. Soon, she’s leading them both down the hall and into their bedroom. Jensen watches the back of her head as she trounces with each step—he feels himself growing eager and hot as they move. Misha’s stiff body slides beside him and when he turns to peek at the man, the fear on his face is still apparent. Jensen nudges him and gives him a grin when the blue eyes finally look his way.

            “What’s happening?” Misha mouths.

            “Something _awesome_ ” Jensen spits back.

            They file through the door and Danneel lets go to rush over to the bed and clear off her paperwork. When the covers are finally bare, she whips around to face the men standing in the corner of the room.

            “You guys will probably be more comfortable in here” she whispers, turning a little red as she stares at them both.

            Jensen feels his face start to ache from the giant grin he’s wearing; but Misha’s face is rigid and taut. Jensen looks back to his wife, and sees a frown twitch across her mouth.

            “ _Misha_ …” she coos, walking towards the man and placing her hands on his shoulders. “I’ve told Jensen and Vicki this several times, but I have yet to say it to you directly. I’m _really_ okay with this. In fact, now that I’ve seen it happen in front of me—” Danneel looks over to Jensen and tosses him a wink, “I can honestly say, it is one of the hottest things I’ve ever witnessed.”

            He hears Misha’s breath hitch in his throat. “ _Really_?”

            “Hell yeah!”

            Jensen laughs; Texas is obviously rubbing off on his girl.

            “Oh—okay, well … good” Misha says, sounding as if he just closed a business deal, instead of agreeing that him screwing his friend’s husband was universally _sexy_.

Danneel steps back to watch them both, and Jensen can only continue to grin. Misha looks over at him, seeming slightly more eased and a lot more lost at where to go from here.

            “Okay, well … I guess I’ll let you two continue. Sadly, I do have a conference call to make.” She reaches back and grabs her script off the dresser before walking towards the door; but Jensen catches her arm, yanking her in and kissing her hard. Once he lets her go, he spins her around and holds up his hand, miming for her to wait. Her face pulls back a bit as she nods. Jensen then turns to Misha, running his fingers up through the man’s hair. He gives his wife one last hungry glance before jerking Misha into his lips. The man resists for a moment, but Jensen coaxes his tongue with his own. His friend finally relents, melting into the forceful handling of his own body. Jensen twists him around and pushes him backwards until their falling across the bed. The blue eyed man scoots himself back so he’s fully prone on the mattress; meanwhile, Jensen rears up and pulls off his shirt, quickly undoing his jeans after that. Misha’s abs flex and wind as he wriggles out of his own clothes. Jensen gasps, enjoying the show and wondering just how each, little mound would taste. His curiosity wins him over, and soon, he’s bending down to lick along Misha’s stomach.

            His friend moans as he looks him over. Jensen swirls his tongue lower and lower until his chin is sliding against the covered tip of Misha’s cock. The smell of the man overtakes him and he feels his mind shut down as his hands work the boxer’s off his friend’s hips. In a moment, Misha’s leaking head is free and begging for attention. It could just be the fact that his wife is there—not only on board, but _enjoying_ every second, or it could be that he always loves a chance to perform with an audience, but for whatever reason, the new dynamic erases his fear. The tiny drips that spill from his friend splay out smoothly on his tongue. Jensen peers up at Misha as he sucks him down for the first time. The man’s eyes blow before rolling into the back of his head. He collapses down on the sheets, arching up and twitching with each pass that Jensen makes. He inhales him deeper, choking slightly as he increases his speed. Misha growls and grips the bedding. Jensen moves steadily, caressing his hand along his friend’s inner thigh. He slides higher until his thumb is twitching against the fleshy curve of the man’s ass. Jensen pauses a moment as the tip of his finger grazes the surprise Misha had prepared for him. His own cock throbs, realizing for the first time what exactly this means. Jensen grins around the man’s strained shaft, returning to his quick, powerful rhythm. He feels Misha expand in his throat—he thinks of the dreams that his friend had and finally sees how someone could enjoy doing this.

            Misha shivers beneath his touch, a shaking, vulnerable mess to his whims. Jensen could do whatever he wants to the man and he wouldn’t be able to protest, he wouldn't be able to stop him. A playful bite is left on the purpled tip in his mouth and Misha jolts, yanking his head up to glare at him. His blue eyes plead for mercy but Jensen is loving the wicked-inebriating power that comes from having his friend amid his lips. As he licks him up once more, his mind returns to the plug nestled between his friend’s cheeks. He reaches down, working his fingers in until he can grip the rounded edges of the thing that’s stretching his friend out—prepping him for something else, something only Jensen can give him. With another, deep suck, he pulls the plug out slightly. Misha screams—Jensen stops, thinking he might have done something wrong; but the man begins rocking against his fingers and a new, sticky wave fills his mouth. Jensen smiles again, letting his fingers thrust the plug in and out a few times as he continues to swallow. He’s quickly fighting the man’s twisting body, attempting to hold him down with his other hand, but Misha is out of control. The man arcs up and Jensen nearly gags on the throbbing member as it pushes into his throat. He pulls his own body up a little, needing to gain some leverage over his wrecked friend if he is going to finish him off. Jensen drops down once more, thrusting the plug back and forth, almost having to bite onto the man to keep him from ripping out from his lips.

            “Shit! Oh my— _fuck_!” Misha blurts, crashing his head against the mattress.

            With one more pass, he spills into Jensen’s mouth. He has to admit, he wasn’t ready for the feeling of something shooting down his throat, it’s hard for him to keep up—but thankfully, he manages. After another few seconds, Misha starts to calm, twitching and jerking his limbs as Jensen finishes him off.

            “ _Fuck_ … Jen, seriously, where the _fuck_ …where the fuck did that come from?” Misha spits towards the ceiling.

            Jensen lifts himself up with a smile, finally looking fully at his friend’s face; his cheeks are pale and clammy, but his chest is flushed, like he’d been beating on it. Misha’s stomach heaves and Jensen throbs more as he watches it tighten and flex. The man finally opens his eyes and stares at him—the piercing blues cause his cock to scream for attention. He wipes the corners of his mouth and turns back to look for his wife, wondering for a moment if all that was too much for her. He finally spots her tiny frame, leaning up against the door. She’s looks just as wrecked as Misha—a crumpled script in her one hand, and the other, disappearing beneath the band of her jeans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/tumblr_nv9nvbJszl1rk08f0o1_540_zpsssj1jaev.jpg.html)  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Art by the amazing [Raz](http://castielsboy.tumblr.com/image/129892156365).
> 
> Find him on Tumblr at [castielsboy](http://castielsboy.tumblr.com/)


	24. I'll Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

             Jensen walks over to his wife, smiling softly, delving through all his memories, trying to find a time he’s ever loved her more.

            “You okay?” he asks, letting the little part of him that worries make a momentary appearance.

            She nods while slipping her hand free of her jeans. “Yeah. I’m good. _Really_ , _really_ good.”

            Jensen laughs—a hard, full body laugh that comes all too easily when every nerve is raw and every emotion is open and waiting to be danced upon. He braces himself with one hand above her head, leaning against the door frame. The other draws up to slide along the slender curve of her neck, and he pulls her in. They kiss, and release, only to come together again with more fervor and need. Jensen finally breaks their seal, leaning his forehead upon hers and looking down the length of her adorable, perfect nose. “Ready for the next round?”

            Danneel begins to nod and then freezes, looking up at him with torn eyes. “Damnit, the conference call!”

            Her panic makes him laugh again, even though he knows it shouldn’t; but he can just see her trying to explain why she’s late and fumbling on every word.

            She smacks his arm. “Shut up! I really don’t want to mess up this role!”

            Jensen settles and looks back down at his wife, taking a moment to peek over his shoulder at Misha—the guy is still a puddle on the bed and even though his eyes are slightly open, Jensen wonders if he’s asleep. He returns to his wife, who joined his observation of the naked man in their room. She’s biting her lip and after another second, she lets out a whine that makes him want to throw her on the bed alongside his friend. Jensen reaches out to kiss her again.

            “Babe! _I can’t_! _God_ , I want to, but I can’t. I have to get on this call.”

            Now it’s Jensen’s turn to whine. “You’re going to miss the really good stuff, though.” He assumes it’s only because it’s Danneel—the idea of being watched usually makes him fairly uneasy, but having _her_ eyes on him made everything more intense. It made him feel safe and capable. A part of him is still nervous about the next step with Misha … if he has _her_ there, he would feel more at ease, as if he were about to do something for the both of them— _all three_ of them, instead of just himself.

            She looks at him and then back to Misha—her eyes curve and her lower lips gets collected into her teeth once more. “ _Damnit_ … let me text them.”

            Jensen grins, scooping her up in his arms and spinning her around, wincing a little as her legs brush along the bulge attempting to peek out his undone zipper. She laughs and taps his shoulders, urging him to put her down. He finally complies but kisses her once more as he does.

            ‘Okay, _go on_ , I need to text them and I can’t do it with you distracting me.”

            The evil grin plays on his face—it wasn’t a challenge but he sure as hell heard it that way. He lets go and starts to back up slowly, still keeping his eyes locked on her. She stares at him, shaking a bit as she watches. Jensen may be putty in her hands most of the time, but he knows where her buttons are too—he knows what she likes … even more so now. He stares at her, hard and slightly squinted, his lips falling apart just a little, enough to make his tongue peek out from behind his teeth. The man keeps her in his sights until he finally reaches the bed, licking his lip and flashing a crooked smile before turning around. She whines again, and his cock throbs.

            He tosses the glare to Misha, whose sleepy eyes blare when they feel the green ones eat him up like supper. Jensen crawls onto the mattress and over the man, dragging his mouth up the seam of his body. He arrives at Misha’s neck and turns to his wife again, winking at her before he drops in to bite and lick every sinew. His friend wriggles under his weight and Jensen sinks further in, holding him down.

            “You said you liked my jaw? Well, I _love_ you neck” he growls between bites. “I never realized how much I’ve wanted to taste it.”

            Misha whimpers and the sound vibrates Jensen’s lips, making him smile against his friend’s throat.

            “Have you ever been held down, Mish? Has anyone ever done that to you?” Jensen asks, finally lifting up to stare at the man’s flushed face.

            Misha pants before slowly shaking his head.

            Jensen lets out an amused huff through his nose, slanting his eyes and nipping at his friend’s chin, “Do you want me to?”

            Misha nods furiously. His hands are quickly pinned above his head and Jensen scoots up until he’s crouching over him, sitting across his waist and locking his ankles over his knees.

            “In all the ways I’ve ever fucked with you, I think this is going to be my favorite” Jensen hisses, twisting down to snap at Misha’s tongue. The man groans and rakes his fingers against the side of Jensen’s hand, trying to grab hold of something, but he’s stuck—trapped underneath the muscle of his friend. Jensen looks behind him once more to his wife. She’s moved closer, leaning against the side of the dresser, her mouth a little open as wrecked breath tumbles off her lips.

            “I thought you had to send that text, babe” he mocks, bending down lick along Misha’s jaw, still watching Danneel as he moves.

            “Fuck you” she moans, gliding her hands up her body—Jensen shivers at the sight of his wife getting lost in her own touch.

            “No … I’ll be fucking him” Jensen hums, turning back to look at the man he’s pinning, who’s all but falling apart beneath him. “That’s what you want me to do, isn’t it?”

            Misha nods again, slipping into the low burn of Jensen’s eyes.

            “Good … now I’m going to get up and you’re going to roll over, got it?”

            “Yes” Misha whispers

            As Jensen slides off the edge of the bed, he notices that Misha has caught Danneel’s eye. The air is heavy as they take each other in. For a moment, his wife looks scared, as if she were just caught peeping into the boys locker room. Jensen’s heart holds out mid-beat, wondering if this is where it all falls apart. Then Misha grins—naked, half turned over and exposed, smiling at Danneel and calling her to him with the slightest flick of his head. She comes, hesitantly shuffling in to lean across the bed. The man looks back to Jensen as he motions for Danneel to bend in more. Soft, unintelligible words are whispered into her ear after another moment, and then a kiss is placed on her cheek to punctuate the silent sentence. She peers at their friend and nods, returning a kiss to his forehead before backing away. A whole new contentment coats the room. It eases the final strands of nerves that are causing Jensen’s knees to quiver, and with them gone, everything in him urges his body back on top of his friend’s.

            He braces his weight on his fists; punching down on either side of Misha’s frame, boxing him in so he can’t wriggle away. Jensen looks down at the exposed flesh beneath his chin, he stills—biting on his breath as his friend’s back tenses, highlighting every muscle below the tanned skin.

            “I think I might like this part of you just as much as your neck,” Jensen groans, letting his hands slide beneath the man until their bodies are flush. Jensen presses his lips into Misha’s spine, nudging his cheek against his shoulder blade—sliding his tongue up and down every bump and ridge. He tastes slightly of sweat and Jensen wonders when he started finding that taste appealing—but he laps it up like a cat with milk. “ _God_ , Mish, how are you fucking doing this to me?”

            His friend doesn’t answer him and Jensen is glad. He likes the mystery. He likes trying to bite and kiss and feel his way to the answer. Words come too easily to the man anyway, the reasons would be all too quickly explained and Jensen wouldn’t be able to do _this._ He bucks his hips in as he gets lost in the feeling of Misha’s solid body filling his arms. His cock presses against the plug and Jensen moans, burying his face deeper into the wings of his friend’s back.

            “Are you ready?” he breathes, wondering if he’s really asking Misha, or if he’s talking to himself.

            A low, hungry growl reverberates through the perfect being in his grasp, pouring kerosene on Jensen’s fire. He peels himself away, glazed over with eager-want. As he kneels, sitting across the back of the man’s thighs, he looks about the body laid out for him. Toned, carved, thick—nothing he’s ever desired before in his life, but now, he wants more than anything. Jensen let’s his hands travel up Misha’s hips, rounding towards each other until they meet at the top of his fleshy curves. Jensen inhales—sharp and quick before allowing his fingers to slip down, spreading his friend’s ass apart and massaging the giving skin. His right hand musters the courage to slide into the center, reaching once more for the surprise that brought him here. Misha’s body tenses beneath him, preparing for what’s about to come. Jensen tugs at the plug, and his friend moans. Shivers crawl over the freckles speckling his body. He pulls again, this time, feeling Misha’s muscles release the thing, letting it slide out further. His friend buries his head into the pillows beneath him, letting out one more cry. Jensen inserts it again, loving how it sucks in—his cock aches and begs him for release; but he is having just as much fun torturing himself as he is, Misha. He wants to revel in this moment … his wife watching him hungrily, his best friend, squirming on his bed—all but pleading for him to fill him up.

            “Jen, _please._ ” _He’s pleading now._

            Misha rocks back, fucking himself on the plug being held steady by Jensen’s hand. He moves away, he _has_ to—the man’s little movements, _his want_ —it’s as effective as his hand, his tongue … Jensen is on the edge. He breathes deep, letting himself calm before he finally removes the plug completely, tossing it on the bed beside them. Misha is open and waiting, sliding back and forth on the sheets, probably enjoying the friction on his own, rigid cock. After another, short, shaky breath, Jensen aligns himself—letting his tip press gently on Misha’s widened hole. The man rocks back again and they both cry out in unison at the feeling. Jensen digs his fingers once more into Misha’s hips; rumbling low, nearly barking as he presses into the man. He feels himself enter—he digs his nails in deeper. He watches his cock slowly disappear inside his friend, and every organ, every drop of blood in his body subdues. Misha tightens around him as he goes, pulling him down into his depths. Sinking in, Jensen’s vision blurs, fading out the world except for the vague shape of the man he’s now connected to—but he would know that shape anywhere and he releases his clawed fingers, sliding them up until they reach the perfect shoulders he’s just learned to adore. They feel nearly as good beneath his palms as everything else does around his shaft—everything about this man exhilarates him.

            “ _Faster_ ” Misha moans, muffled and breathy into the mattress.

            Jensen complies without question, leaning up to plant himself on his knees, gliding his hips back until he’s almost fully out of the man. As soon as his hands draw back to Misha’s hips, he thrusts in, hard, hitting a wall deep in his friend’s core. A scream fills the air and Jensen moves faster—knowing that scream now, _loving_ it. He grunts as he grinds in, hitting the same spot over and over, letting the shocks roll through him like thunder. His fingers whiten as they try to keep Misha still, but he’s a mess of jolts and spasms. The man’s body bucks up and Jensen adjusts, scooting up higher to keep the momentum. He slides his fingers down to grab hold of the curves of his friend’s pelvis, trying to keep a better grip, feeling the heat of a Misha’s cock as he does. Jensen steadies his thrusts, reaching below and taking his friend’s length in his hand. He strokes as he pushes into him, and Misha cries out curses and grips at the sheets. Jensen plays him like his guitar, plucking every string and tapping the base, filling the room with his new, favorite melody.

            “Fuck, Jen, I’m cumming! _Fuck!_ ”

            The words throw him off the ledge and Jensen speeds up, multiplying his motions and dissolving completely into the moment. He feels a hand reach back, clasping onto his own as it digs into his friend’s side. Misha holds onto him, mumbling words into the pillows—words that sound like _I love you, don’t stop, don’t ever stop._ Jensen collapses across him, feeling his resolve break, and as he releases, letting the warmth inside his body pass along to his friend, filling him to the brim, making him shake and roil under his weight—Jensen groans. Between kisses and bites along his friend’s spine, he whispers words that almost hurt with their raw, unnerving truth.

            “I won’t, _I’ll never_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/tumblr_nn6w2dlhST1rk08f0o1_540_zpsoxzj0t2i.jpg.html)  
>  This lovely piece of fan art was created by the oh-so-talented Raz. Find him on Tumblr at: [CastielsBoy](http://castielsboy.tumblr.com/)
> 
>   
>    
> 


	25. Pruning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, this chapter was cursed. First I wrote half of it and then lost it to computer error. Then I rewrote it and then Ao3 refused to paste it. Then I finally got it to paste but the layout got royally messed up ... ugh! Anyway, if it's a crap chapter, sorry ... It is cursed.

            The sweat pools between their suctioned skin. Jensen rolls off of the heaving body below him, sighing as the open air cools his fever.

            “How ya doin’, Mish?” he whirrs, already adrift in the feeling of the soft sheets beneath him.

            Misha groans into the pillows without moving an inch.

            Jensen laughs as he turns to look him over— _hopefully he doesn’t suffocate like that._ “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

            Misha groans again.

            Jensen smiles as he glances to the ceiling, watching the sun-backed shadows dance in from the window. He wonders just how long they’ve been in here. It seems like hours, but it seems like seconds—it seems like it doesn’t matter, _he’s happy._ After another long, low breath Jensen finally musters the energy to lift his head. He needs to check on Danneel, make sure she made it through in one piece. Misha just might be in a coma and he knows that _he_ is barely together himself, so how is _she_ doing with all this? He creaks up, pouring across the room, but there’s no sign of his wife. “Dani?”

            “Down here” comes a meager voice; she’s somewhere below the bed. Jensen grunts as he heaves his body onto his elbows, trying to get a better vantage point.

            He finds her sitting on the floor, slumped against the dresser, legs outstretched until they’re almost touching the footboard; her pants are undone … she looks like a busted marionette. “You okay?”

            She nods and smiles at him, running her shaky hand through her sweat-streaked hair. “Yeah … _fine_.”

            “Good, for a second I, _uh_ —I thought you’d left” Jensen laughs nervously.

            “No, just couldn’t really keep standing during that—had to sit.” She sounds out of breath, it sounds familiar, and he thinks how strange it is to hear her like that when he had only ever been touching someone else.

            He crashes back down, the relief causing all his muscles to break. He laughs another time, more sincere than the last. “Did you ever send that text?”

            A sharp inhale zips through the room, “ _Damnit_!”

            He lifts his head again, just in time to see Danneel pull herself up onto her shaking legs. “They are seriously going to fire me from this gig!” she whines. The woman fumbles while trying to re-button her pants and straighten out her tank top.

            “Just say JJ was sick or something. They know you got a life.”

            Danneel shoots him an aggravated glare and he recognizes the words that are brewing behind her eyes. “Not _all_ of us have the luxuries that come with being on a long-running show, Jensen. I’m not the only person on their list. They can _easily_ replace me without a million people freaking out about it. If I screw this up, they’ll just find another _pretty face_ to cast.”

            Jensen cowers; he’s heard this speech from her before, usually whenever he tries to comfort her about the job, but his comfort always come off more _lecturing_ than helpful. He glances over to Misha—the guy is still smothered into the sheets, but his body is tense now— _this is awkward._ He certainly didn’t want to have a marital dispute in front of him … not after everything that just happened, not after it was all so perfect. He finally turns back to face his wife’s steady burn. “I’m sorry, babe. I hope they understand, and if they don’t … I promise I’ll try to make it up to you.”

            Her tiny frame deflates a little, causing her to seem even slimmer—she smirks at him, “You bet _your ass_ you’ll make it up to me,” her eyes glance to Misha before the smirk turns into a devilish grin, “ _him_ too.”

            He turns back to his best friend as he finally lifts his head to stare towards the window—his tired blue eyes are wide and his jaw is falling to the pillows. Jensen is starting to like where his wife’s mind is at. “I’m _sure_ we can manage that … if Mish doesn’t mind.”

            Misha snaps his neck to face him. “Uh … _sure_?”

            Both Danneel and Jensen spit out a laugh. _It’s too easy to freak this guy out._

            The man’s entire body squirms and his eyes strain to look back at Danneel. “You two are very unnerving when you’re like this, just so you know.”

            “Don’t worry, Misha. If Jensen really wants to make it up to me, then he’ll be on the receiving end next time” his wife purrs.

            Jensen feels his body seize as he whips his gaze back to her. She meets his eyes and then erupts into a fit of giggles. He hears his friend chuckle beside him. _Well, this turned quickly._

            “Okay, I really do have to go get on that call.” Danneel looks over to the clock that’s on the nightstand. “Plus, it’s eleven thirty two, so you guys gotta leave soon.”

            Jensen nods, still choking down the idea of _him_ being in Misha’s position … on his stomach, body wrecked—forced open, heaving and sloppy. It doesn’t sound too appealing no matter how he looks at it.

            “Good luck, Dani” Misha mumbles while plopping his face back into the pillows.

            His wife turns to pull open the door and she’s already shutting it before her voice carries to their ears. “Thanks!”

            Jensen crumbles with the _click_ of the latch, and almost instantly, an arm is being tossed across his chest and a warm body is nestling into his side. He adjusts, wrapping his limbs around Misha’s sticky, sheened shoulders. Soft kisses are soon running along his chest and Jensen eases, letting the thoughts of what is yet to come, flit away. He wants to enjoy the _now_ , and Misha certainly seems intent on making that possible. They lay there a moment, relishing in the quiet before the dulled tones of Danneel’s voice start trickling down the hall.

            “So, was that alright?” Jensen finally asks, trying to keep his mind settled.

            “ _God_ , yes” his friend whispers, low and strained between another kiss.

            “Like …” Jensen swallows a bit, wondering how he’s going to phrase this and why he even wants to ask, but _he’s curious_ —this all is still so new, “like, compared to other guys, was it okay? I don’t really have anything to compare this to.”

            He feels Misha laugh against his chest. “Well, I don’t either, but I _can_ say that it was very enjoyable.”

            Jensen pulls away, scooting his body up a bit to look down and eye the man curled against him. “ _What?_ ”

            “What?”

            “What do you mean _you don’t either?_ ”

            “ _What?_ ” Misha is obviously still in a daze from everything that had just occurred.

            Jensen feels his body knot. His stomach stabs as his skin tightens. “Are you saying … you’ve _never_ done this before?”

            The man peers up at him a moment, before looking back down again and pressing his lips to another one of Jensen’s ribs. “That is what I’m saying, _yes_.”

            Jensen wriggles away some more. “ _But_ … but back in my trailer, _you_ _said_ … you said you knew what you were doing.”

            Misha sighs and finally draws his body up, leaning onto his elbow and looking over to him with soothing, exhausted eyes “Yes, I did say that.”

            “So you were lying?” Jensen can feel himself starting to get angry but Misha’s hand is too quick to grab his own.

            “ _No_ , I wasn’t lying. I have done _certain_ things with _a_ man before, but I didn’t do—“ Misha pulls his hand away and gestures down the length of their bodies, “I didn’t do _this._ ”

            The anger quickly melts back into fear and worry. “But, you … _I_ _thought_ , I thought … you are always …”

            A little, rumbled chuckle whirls up from the man’s throat. “Just how big of a slut do you think I am?”

            Jensen tenses, hating the way he phrased it, but realizing that is, in essence, what he thought. “I just know you like trying a bunch of _different_ things.”

            Misha smiles at him and settles back down against his freckled side, letting his chin dig a little into Jensen’s collar bone. “I have tried _a lot,_ but that doesn’t mean I’ve tried everything. Plus, I _do_ have standards. I wouldn’t let just anyone fuck me in the ass.”

            _I really wish he would stop being so blunt_. “If I had known … I wouldn’t have—I wouldn’t have been so rough.”

            “ _What_? You weren’t rough.”

            “Well, I just mean, I wouldn’t have been like _that_ … since it was your first time, I would have—”

            Misha lifts up again, laughing a little harder now. “ _Aww, Jen_ , are you saying you would have made our first time more _special_? Would you have lit some candles? Played some Barry White?”

            His friend continues to muse as Jensen finally slides away, sitting up completely and rubbing his hand over his face. “Shut up, man _—_ you know what I mean.” His voice is sharp, filled with annoyance and perhaps, a little shame.

            Misha relaxes and rolls onto his back, reaching out to let his fingers dance along Jensen’s hip “Jen, I’m not some delicate flower for you to prune. I came over her with a plug in my ass for Christ’s sake. I wasn’t really looking for _soft and gentle_.”

            Jensen sighs as he replays the last hour in his mind—his words, his wife watching, it all seems a little _taboo_ now that he knows Misha is just as new to all this as he is. He feels like he somehow took advantage of the guy. “Still, I wouldn’t have had Danneel … _you know_.”

           He feels his friend edge up behind him. “I admit, _that_ threw me for a loop—but what I was _more_ worried about was _you_.”

            Jensen turns to stare at the man, and Misha glances at him with an easy smile.

            “I was worried that you would be nervous—that you wouldn’t know how to approach this.” The man sighs as he continues to draw circles onto his skin, “Everything else we have done so far, _well_ , it’s taken you a while to relax. This was a _big_ jump … I was prepared to accept that it just might not happen.”

            The rest of the room collects his interest as he looks away; Jensen wants to tell him that it would have happened no matter what, but he knows he’d be lying. If it didn’t play out the way it did—if his wife didn’t push them into it, they would probably still be making out on the couch.

            “If Dani being here—if her watching us gave you _that_ much confidence … enough to be cocky and demanding, well, _hell_ —she’s invited every time.”

            Jensen finally looks back, trying to force a smile but he’s stuck on his friend’s words: _cocky, demanding_ —not necessarily the adjectives he likes to hear when it comes to his performance in bed. “I’m sorry, Mish.”

            Misha groans, propping his exhausted, naked body up to yank the man back down to the sheets. He slips over him and kisses him hard before pulling away once more. “Don’t you _dare_ apologize for that. Like I said before, I’m _not_ fragile and frankly—I don’t think I would have enjoyed it if you treated me as such. _That_ … that was seriously the most turned on I’ve ever been.”

            Jensen gawks, “Yeah?”

            “Yes” Misha confirms with that boyish grin that makes Jensen melt. Another kiss quickly follows. “Now, if that issue is settled, I’d like to get cleaned up.”

            Jensen laughs a little as he lets his fingers dance down the man’s spine. “Yeah, sure thing. Hop in the shower. I’ll go in after you.”

            He watches as Misha drops down to give his nipple a playful bite “ _Well_ , if you want to join me, I won’t mind that either.”

            He grins a bit too excitedly at his friend. “I just might do that.”

            Misha’s gummy gleam crinkles his nose as he pulls away, finally sliding off the bed and straightening out. Jensen watches, amazed that he doesn’t even flinch at the sight of him — _all of him_ , just dangling there _._ The man turns to head across towards the bathroom, but after a few steps, he halts. Jensen blinks as he watches his body freeze a moment, and then arch backwards as his hands shoot to cup his ass. Misha turns with saucered eyes blazing back at Jensen on the bed.

 _What the hell?_ He starts to panic. _I hurt him, shit_. He bolts up, staring at his friend “Are you alright, man?”

            Misha slowly nods, eyes still wide as he turns to waddle once more towards the other room. “Yeah, I’m fine … but feeling like you’re _shitting_ yourself is definitely an unpleasant aspect of this whole thing.”

            It only takes another second for his feet to shuffle him into the bathroom and for the heavy door to slam—deafening the raucous sounds of Jensen’s laughter.


	26. Fruit Loop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Alecia ...

        He is almost asleep in his chair when Jared’s giant hands clamp down on his shoulders, “Wake up!”

        Jensen yelps, jolting and rocking over until he nearly falls—catching himself last minute with an outstretched leg. “ _What the hell_ , man?”

        His friend’s massive body shakes as he laughs, grabbing his shoulder once more to give it a loving, apologetic squeeze. “Oh c’mon, dude, you should know better than to sleep on set when I’m around.”

        Jensen rubs his hands over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes, but it sticks like sap. “You _weren’t_ around! You were at the zoo … why are you here, anyway?”

        “The girls took the kids out for a treat once we got back. Dani mentioned that she wanted some ‘girl-time’ … then Gen gave me the _get-lost_ glare, so— _now_ I’m here.”

        Jensen swallows hard, knowing _exactly_ why his wife wanted some alone time to talk with Genevieve. “Oh, okay—so, uh … how was the zoo?”

        “Wild.”

        He rolls his eyes as Jared leans in. The guy exaggerates a goofy grin while doing a little jig to emphasize his pun. “Wow—yeah, _good one_ , man.”

        “I thought so” Jared says with a snort.

        “You always do—and you’re _always_ wrong.”

        “Whatever. You’re just jealous of my awesome jokes; you always have been and you always will be.”

        Jensen smiles and shakes his head, knowing that if nothing else is true about that statement, the “always” is. Jared climbs into the director’s chair next to him and they sit in easy silence for another moment, looking out over the set as the crew cleans up. They both smile to themselves and Jensen thinks for the millionth time, how lucky he is to get to do this.

        “So, JJ behaved herself?” he finally asks, while reaching down to pick up his bottle of water he had set on the floor earlier.

        Jared snorts again, “You _know_ she did. Honestly, that girl could have set every animal free while riding and ostrich around the place, and she _still_ would have seemed calm compared to my two.”

        Jensen almost chokes mid-swallow. He chuckles as he sets the bottle back down, feeling the pride bloom in his chest. He knows his little girl probably held tightly to Gen’s hand the whole time—just as she was told to. She probably did her best to lecture Tom and Shep, mimicking their mother’s dominant-tones. His sweet, little girl probably earned seven halos by the end of the day, and he can’t wait to get home and hear her tell him all about it. “Good, I’m glad she didn’t give you any trouble. Did she have fun?”

        “ _Oh yeah_ , she kept chattering about all the animals she saw. She was trying to inform Tom of every little fact she knew about each one. I don’t think he listened at all, but that didn’t keep her from telling him.”

        Jensen barks out a laugh, “Sounds like Dani.”

        Jared chuckles and nods before taking a deep breath, “Oh, and I think her favorite was the petting zoo. She really liked getting to feed the animals.”

        “Oh yeah? They have a petting zoo _in_ the zoo?”

        “Yeah, it was actually kind of cool. I got to feed a llama.”

        Jensen smiles and looks over at the guy, wondering if he knows that he sounds like he’s five years old. “ _Uh huh_ —how was it interacting with your own kind again?”

        Jared whips his head to face him, looking very serious and very offended. “ _Dude_! I’m a moose, get it right!”

        Jensen throws up his hands defensively, “Sorry! Sorry … how could I have made that error?”

        “Well, squirrels are pretty dumb.”

        “Yeah, well—at least we know how to nut-up.”

        Jared snickers and shakes his shaggy head, “Wow, that was bad!”

        “Oh _c’mon_! You make horrid jokes all, damn day and I make _one_ and suddenly you’re shaming me?”

        “Well, when it’s _really bad_ —”

        Jensen chuckles. “Let me get that shit in writing so I can shove it in your face whenever you open your mouth.”

        They both grin at each other as another round of relaxed quiet falls between them.

        “Oh, and there was this chicken!” Jared suddenly blurts, so loud it causes some of the crew to turn and stare at them from across the warehouse.

        Jensen even teeters back a bit with his friend’s explosion, laughing at the guy- loving how even after ten years, he still never fails to surprise him. “ _A_ c _hicken?”_

        Jared turns to him, eyes wide and nodding—looking more like Shep then the grown man he’s supposed to be. “Yeah, this crazy, fucking chicken!”

        Jensen raises his eyebrows and nods at the guy, pressing him to continue.

        “JJ loved the damn thing, it came up to her and was eating seed out of her hand, but the moment _I_ walked up to it, it started squawking and pecking at my feet … I kind of danced away—” Jared stands up to mime how he danced, jumping a little to the side and shuffling his feet “but the damn thing kept coming after me! Next thing I know, I’m running around the pen and all the kids are laughing because fucking, _Fruit Loop_ , the psycho chicken is determined to peck out my eyes!”

        “ _Fruit Loop_?” Jensen laughs, eyes still blowing wide.

        “ _Yeah_! One of the zoo keepers kept calling its name as she chased it while the thing was chasing me!”

        Jensen starts laughing loud and hard, feeling the riot ache his already, tired muscles—but the image of the six foot-four doofus, jogging around a pen of various farm animals and small children, while a chicken pecks at his heels is just too hilarious to manage.

        “It wasn’t funny at the time, man! I thought I was going to have to step on the thing and then scar the kids for life!”

        Jensen continues to roll, bending over at the middle, letting his humor fall to the floor. “Oh man! I would pay money _every day_ to watch that! Please tell me Gen got it on camera!”

        “Got _what_ on camera?” Misha is suddenly beside him, holding his own water bottle—wringing it in his hands.

        Jensen grins at the guy, laughter masking his overwhelming joy to see him; even though it’s only been twenty minutes since their last scene together. “Jared got attacked by a chicken and I’m hoping his wife cares about me enough to have filmed it.”

        Misha smiles big, squinting his eyes before leaning against the side of Jensen’s chair—the heat from his body radiating out and Jensen pushes into it.

        “I don’t think she filmed it, but then again—she probably would and not tell me. She knows I’d delete that shit. “

        “ _No you wouldn’t_ , you’d be the first one to upload it to Twitter!” Misha spits. Jensen looks up at him as his friend stares at Jared—he relishes the moment he can just be an observer of the dark angles of his jaw

        Jared laughs before sitting back down. “ _True_ , that shit _would_ be hilarious to watch.”

        Misha looks around a moment, twitching his head about like a meerkat—he finally spots something in the corner behind them and jets off. Jensen turns to watch him walk away, only to see him whip around after another second with a stool in his hands. The water bottle crackles as he fumbles to hold both. Misha is quickly next to them once more, setting down the stool and sitting upon it, curving over himself, creating a mess of lean lines that Jensen can’t help but devour in his sights.

        “So, how did you finally escape your attacking chicken?” Misha asks, taking a sip of his water shortly after. Jensen watches his throat dance on the gulp.

        “The zoo keeper grabbed it just before it leaped up to peck out my eyes.”

        Misha laughs deep and rattled, “You’re lucky it wasn’t a wild chicken—it would have flown at your head from the start.”

        “Chickens can’t fly” Jared scoffs, sounding almost offended.

        “Wild chickens can fly” Misha retorts matter-of-factly.

        “ _No_ , they are flightless birds.”

        “Domesticated chickens, _yes_ —wild chickens of certain families _can_ fly.”

        Jared tosses a disgusted look to Jensen, hoping to find some solidarity, but Jensen can only lean back and raise his hand, not wanting any part of this senseless debate.

        “Oh my god, you’re on crack! _No_ chicken can fly … if it is by definition _a chicken_ —then it _can’t_ fly!”

        Misha rolls his eyes, finally letting them drop to give Jensen a knowing stare—making the green eyed man flinch a little when he feels the blues travel over his skin. “By _definition_ , a chicken is a _bird_ and birds _can_ fly.”

        “So are penguins and ostriches and dodos!”

        Misha huffs while smacking his hand lightly on his own knee, “Penguins don’t need to fly because they can swim, they’ve adapted. Ostriches can run—again, _adapted_ and dodos are fucking extinct!”

        “That doesn’t negate the fact that they are all _flightless birds_ … like the chicken!”

        “Oh my— _seriously_? How did you get through school with such a narrowed perspective?”

        “Oh, well, at my high school, the evolution of birds and their capability of flight wasn’t exactly a major part of the exit exams.”

        “Apparently, neither was common sense or basic, linear thinking!” Misha snaps with an evil grin.

 

        Jensen loses count of how many exaggerated sighs he lets out over the next few minutes—they go unnoticed. The other two men are too busy pulling out their phones trying to find evidence to back up their sides. They each only stumble upon more conflicting information which then leads to a debate on reputable sources and what qualifies as “peer reviewed”.

        After the third round of heated thrusting of phones in the other’s face, Jensen finally jumps in. “Jesus! Who gives a crap? It’s a god damn chicken!”

        Jared and Misha both turn to glare at him, as if he had just insulted their mothers, simultaneously.

        “Oh my god, _fine_ … continue your stupid debate! I’m going to hit the head.” Jensen gets up and starts to walk away, only to look back and stop as he hears the sound of the stool skidding on the concrete flooring.

        “Hold up, I’ll go with you” Misha hums, nearly bounding off his seat.

        Jared scoffs as he grins at the men, “So, Jensen … _which_ head will you be hitting, exactly?”

        Jensen rolls his eyes. “Shut up!” He tosses a glance to Misha who is blushing uncontrollably. “And _you_ shut up!”

        “I’m not even saying anything!” Misha protests, turning away a little, trying to hide his reddening face.

        Jared laughs before slinking out of his chair and sauntering over to their sides. He puts a hand on each of their shoulders and leans in close, so only a whisper would be necessary. “Now, you guys remember to put a sock on the bathroom door or something, we don’t need the half the crew quitting because they were blinded by the sight of _you two_ bumping uglies.”

        Jensen swats his hand away, “Oh _Jesus Christ_!”

        Jared laughs as he turns to look at Misha—who had only gotten redder as the seconds ticked by. Misha finally turns to make his escape but before he can get too far, Jared stretches out and smacks his ass. Misha hisses, reaching back to press on the phantom pain.

        Jensen’s face goes slack as he looks at Jared, knowing that it will only take the guy a second to figure out _why_ his common display of affection is suddenly _painful_ to the shorter man. Misha turns, skin rushing white—still with his hands gracing his rear.

        “ _No …_ ” Jared breathes, a shocked smile twitching his lips.

        Jensen quickly looks at the ground. “ _Fuck_ ” He scrapes his heels across the cold surface.

        “You two … _no!_ ” Jared’s hair flies as he whips his head excitedly between the men.

        “Jared, you may be getting the wrong idea …” Misha starts, and Jensen slowly raises his head to eye him, wondering why the guy is even bothering. _Jared isn’t stupid._

        “ _Wrong idea_!” Jared booms, instantly looking around and leaning in, softening his voice so the rest of the crew hopefully won’t hear. “Wrong idea? You’re currently holding your own ass, Misha ... and Jensen looks like he is going to kill me right now … I think I have _exactly_ the right idea!” He laughs again, reaching out his arms to pull them all in for a hug. He sighs and plays up a saddened tone “ _Oh,_ I can remember when we used to be _Team Free Will,_ now it’s just me ... being _Team Third Wheel!”_

        Misha laughs as a he struggles against the taller man’s grip—Jensen glowers at him some more. “ _What_? It was clever.”

        Jensen rolls his eyes, finally worming his way from Jared’s hold. He turns and squints, hardening his face and letting his words slip out in a serious hiss “ _Alright_ , _alright—_ we all know what’s going on; _you_ feel left out and _you’ve_ got a hurt ass from it… can we all just get on with our day now?” Jared finally lets go of Misha—who straightens out to stare at him, looking slightly confused as he does.

        “Jeez, _I’m_ supposed to be the one with the sore ass, Jen, remember?”

        Jared busts out a giggle, patting Misha on the back appreciatively.

       Jensen feels his discomfort with the conversation burn through him “ _Whatever!_ I gotta take a piss!” With a huff, he stomps away, listening to the men snicker behind him.

        “What’s eating him?” Jared asks—his voice fading with the distance.

        “I don’t know … after all, _I_ was the one getting eaten.”

        Jensen picks up the pace as the men’s laughter fills up the warehouse.

 


	27. Calloused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            “What is it, baby?” Misha coos while watching Maison tear into her gift.

            “ _Present!_ ”

            He slumps a little, sinking into his spot on the living room floor. “Well, _yes_ —daddy is not an idiot, honey. He can see it’s a present.” His dead panned expression makes the rest of the room giggle, and Jensen break open with uninhibited laughter.

            The little girl continues to rip away the paper that Danneel so lovingly placed. It comes off in tiny shreds, making everyone itch with the need to take the gift away and do it themselves. Another painful minute passes before the box inside is finally freed from its binding. “Music!” Maison sings.

            “Oh, _that’s_ _right_ … a xylophone _does_ make music!” Misha chirps, scooting closer to his daughter so he can inspect the instrument more thoroughly. “But you know what else this does, _besides_ play music?”

            Maison’s eyes get wide. She shakes her head and stares at her daddy with innocent wonder.

            Misha smiles before tossing a look to Jensen and Danneel on the couch. “It plays high, pitched, tingly notes that will forever make mommy and daddy’s brains bleed!”

            “Yay!” Maison screeches, ripping the box away from her father’s grip.

            Misha chuckles, still dancing his eyes between his daughter and Jensen. “What do you say to Aunt Dani and Uncle J?” the blue eyed man finally reminds as Maison drums her hands excitedly on her new gift.

            “Tank you!”

            Jensen’s arms are quickly filled with the straw-headed child, hugging him tight and refusing to let go. He grins wide and scoops her up the rest of the way into his lap, tickling her belly as he does. She squeals and squirms in his hold but cries out for more, and he obliges. _He loves this little girl_ —if there’s anyone with more personality than Misha, it’d be her _._

            “Yes, thank you, you guys. Vicki and I truly appreciate you adding to our sleepless nights” Misha says with another laugh. He turns to look at Vicki sitting in a chair in the corner of the room.

            She smiles at him and shakes her head— _she obviously accepted her fate a while ago_. “At least it’s not the bagpipes.”

            Danneel looks around to face the exhausted woman—they all know how hard she’d been working to get her house ready for this. “Oh, don’t spoil our surprise for West!”

            Maison slips away as Jensen stops their play to listen to the women talk—he pays much closer attention now, never knowing what could arise between the slightest twitch of their lips.

            Vicki shoots his wife a glare filled with daggered humor, “You better be joking Dani, or else I’m taking my husband away from yours!”

            “Aw, you wouldn’t do that to me, would you? You know how much I’m enjoying them.”

            Jensen tenses a little as he snaps his gaze to the kids playing near the back door. JJ is inspecting her new stuffed chicken, while Maison, West, Tom and Shep all argue over who can play the xylophone the best— _they aren’t paying attention_. Even if they were, he eases knowing that they wouldn’t understand. _The girls know that, everyone knows—everyone’s okay with it. Everything’s okay._

            “And you know how much I enjoy sleep!” Vicki snaps, bringing Jensen attention round once more.

            They smile and laugh, and Danneel gets up to join Vicki in the corner—seemingly to continue some aspect of their conversation in quieter tones, and he can only imagine which part she’d like to discuss more. Over the past couple months, him and Misha have become her new favorite past-time. It’s actually been a little hard to get the guy alone beyond just their time on set; but he will today. Today, he’ll finally get to see all his planning come together. He only hopes that he’s doing this right. Jensen scans the rest of the room. The kids are starting to argue but not enough for anyone to jump in. Misha has scooted closer to keep an eye on them, just in case. Jared and Gen are looking out the back window over Misha’s property. _He does have a nice view._ That’s the one thing Jensen misses about California—the hills, the height, the ability to see a little of everything if you climbed far enough. Misha likes it up here. He knows the guy enjoys viewing the width of the world, to remind himself just how small he is.

 

            They cycle through more gifts as the sun molds into the afternoon. Jensen yawns, happily soothed with knowledge that _this_ is all there is for the day—sitting around with his closest friends, his _family - Misha_ , exchanging gifts and laughing together. They don’t get to do this every year; there are many times that everyone is off visiting relatives across the country up until it’s time to film again. But every few seasons—they get to come together: Jensen, Jared and Misha—along with the girls and the kids, and they do a late Christmas. He grins wide as he thinks about how different this one is, how much better it feels. There’s a new closeness between them all. They all are aware of it and they all seem truly happy for its presence.

 ***

            “So you really like it? You’re not just trying to pacify me?”

            Jensen smirks as he stares through the windshield, enjoying how the thick tree lines meld into greenish-brown blurs on either side of the road. He drums his left hand on the steering wheel, rocking his wrist side to side, letting his new watch glint in the sun. “I love it, Mish. _Really,_ it’s exactly my style.”

            He feels the man squirm beside him, “I could have done better. I don’t know why, but you’re very hard to shop for.”

            He lifts his arm to rest his elbow on the corner of the passenger seat, letting his fingers trace the messy hairline at the nape of Misha’s neck. The man pushes into his touch. “Mish, it’s perfect, okay?” His friend doesn’t answer and he sighs, glancing over quickly to look at the soured expression wrecking the man’s scruffy face. Jensen turns back to the road, feeling his own features mirror the ones at his right. “If anyone could have done better, _it’s_ _me_.”

            Misha drops slightly, causing Jensen’s nails to scratch lightly on his neck. The man laughs like it tickles. “I doubt that, but where exactly _are_ we going?”

            It’s Jensen’s turn not to answer—only pressing his foot on the gas a bit more, accelerating his truck up the mountain. He feels Misha’s eyes burrow into him.

            “Did you get us a hotel room or something? I mean—I usually wouldn’t mind that but we probably _should_   stay with our families tonight. You know … _the_ _holidays_ and all.”

            Jensen presses his lips together, locking in the words that have been threatening to spill out for the past month. Ever since he got this idea, he has had a hard time not revealing the surprise to his adored friend. Every kiss teased the plan off his tongue—every touch pressed it to the front of his mind. He leans back in his chair, trying to solidify his nerves. _This isn’t enough; the guy deserves more than this … this is probably a bad idea._ But Danneel ensured him it wasn’t. She had asked him what he was planning on giving Misha for Christmas, since things were different now and his usual, nice bottle of scotch just wouldn’t cut it anymore. He finally relented as she pushed, telling her what he was thinking, and she practically shoved him out the door to start getting to work on it. He knows his intentions are good but _still_ , Misha might not see this for what he hopes. It could just trudge up a lot of things that the guy doesn’t particularly want to remember.

            “Seriously, Jen, what are we doing out here? Are you actually a serial killer or something?”

            Jensen snorts, turning to give the guy an exaggerated eye roll. “If I were, I’d be pretty dumb to _off_ a guy with millions of people watching his every move.”

            Misha chuckles, reaching over to rest his hand on Jensen’s thigh. He looks down at it and then back over to his friend beside him. Misha continues to stare out the windshield, his cobalt eyes popping against the green. “ _True_ , but all you’d have to do is flash that sexy smile and those millions of people would forgive you in a heartbeat.”

            The comment receives another, well-deserved eye roll.

 

            They drive fifteen minutes more, occasionally chatting about the kids, about the gifts everyone received—about how lucky they were to sneak away without Jared noticing and making a big deal about it. Shortly after they left, however, both of their phones were pinging with the giant’s flustered texts; they chose to ignore them. Jensen sighs when he spots the turn out. He pulls the truck into it, driving another hundred yards down the dirt embankment before he parks next to some trees and kills the engine. He smiles over at Misha, forcing his own humor, still uncertain if he should have done all this. Misha pops open his door after Jensen slides out of the driver’s side. They meet at the front of the truck and soon, blue eyes are gazing at him expectantly.

            “So, what now, Jensen-san? I am following your guidance.”

            Jensen laughs and steadies his hands on his hips, knowing exactly where to go, but stalling for his own sake. “Um, I think it’s this way” he says, taking a few, wavering steps into the trees.

            “ _You_ _think_? Okay, now I am fairly concerned.”

            “You and me both” Jensen grumbles, heading onto the mouth of the path.

            “What?”

            “ _Nothing_.”

 

            They hike about a half mile before Jensen stops. Misha bumps into his back, obviously distracted by the beauty around him. The impact forces a needed laugh from Jensen tightened ribs.

            “Are we … _wherever_ it is that we’re going?” Misha asks, snaking his arms around Jensen’s waist and placing a soft kiss on the back of his neck.

            Jensen nods and slides his palms over his friend’s toned forearms. They squeeze him tighter. _God, I hope this is okay._ “Yeah.”

            Misha continues to nuzzle his chin across his tensed shoulders, causing Jensen to turn his head into his friend’s to kiss his temple. He strains a little, but finds Misha’s scent well worth the effort; it marries sweetly with the woods around them. The man chuckles into the soft skin behind Jensen’s ear, “So, now what?”

            Jensen sighs and tugs at Misha’s arms until they release. He turns to face the man, smiling as softly as he can manage. “Now, you're going to go to that tree over there.” He flicks his head to gesture behind him, watching as Misha peeks over his shoulder to try and spot where he’s supposed to go.

            “We’re in the woods, Jensen—there are _a_ _lot_ of trees.”

            “The small one … that looks different from the others” Jensen clarifies. Misha looks across him again and his blue eyes widen a little as he spots the correct tree.

            “ _Okay_ …” He slips hesitantly from Jensen’s front, leaving him with one, last puzzled look before finally walking the remaining distance to the small, red maple hidden beneath the waving pines. Jensen turns fully to watch the man inspect the thing. Misha reaches out with delicate fingers, feeling the leaves while circling to the other side. His eyes scan up the few feet that the branches stretch above his head, before finally falling back down to its light, brown base. He bites his breath as he sees Misha notice the plaque he made. The man’s pink lips fall apart, shaking a little, eventually masked by his quivering fist. He adjusts his stance, bearing all his weight on one leg and bringing his other hand to his hip. He stands there, staring at the plaque, shaking his head a little as he reads. Jensen feels his heart drum through his insides, threatening to bruise every organ with its beating. _He hates it, why the fuck did I do this?_

            Misha’s water rimmed eyes finally glance back to him and he drops his hand to let choice words fall off his lips. “I—I …”

            Jensen breaks away, looking up to the sky, cursing himself for being such an idiot. “Mish, man … _I’m_ _sorry_. I shouldn’t have reminded you. I thought it would have been nice to have something dedicated to her—that was just _yours,_ you know? I know you did a bunch of stuff through Random Acts for her too, but I just thought— _damnit …_ and Danneel said it was a good idea … I should have known better, though.” He finally looks back down to his friend, who’s still in the same stance he was before, staring at him wide, watery and wondering. Jensen hurries over to his side, reaching down to pull the deeply-grounded plaque from the earth. “I’ll get rid of it.”

            He’s quickly yanked upright once more and collected in a hug. Misha’s face buries into his neck and he feels his friend’s tears dampen the hair behind his ear. Jensen’s arms tie him up. His calloused hands - still healing from the hours he spent digging to plant the tree deep enough to ensure it rooted, hold his friend steady as ragged breaths attempt to keep Misha’s cries at bay. They stay locked together, listening to the birds and the wind wrap around them, moving as naturally as they moved to each other all those years ago. _He was that weird, little man_ —deepening his voice too much and probably trying too hard; but Jensen was captivated … he knows that now. It only took a second for him to want to understand the guy, to be closer to him, and far too many years to finally get the chance.

            “Thank you” Misha whispers, squeezing him tighter as little drops trickle down, leaving darkened marks on Jensen’s shirt.

            “You like it?” Jensen asks, knowing the answer but still feeling like he needs to hear the man say it in order to _truly_ ease.

            “With everything I have.”

***

            The afternoon burns into the mountainside as the men sit and talk, looking at the little tree and the bronze plaque, lovingly inscribed with Sarah’s name. Misha’s tears dry but the shake remains in his voice as he speaks about meeting her family a few days after she died. Jensen thinks back, remembering how his friend had come back to his condo, seeming half-drunk with exhaustion. He fell onto the air mattress and cried quietly, refusing to have any more attention be given to him—he said he didn’t deserve it. Jensen felt helpless that day, and they never brought it up again – not until now.

            “Were they upset?” Jensen asks, instantly cursing himself. He knows the answer; he doesn’t need Misha to recollect _every_ painful second.

            Misha gives a meager smile, as if knowing that Jensen didn’t intend to be so curious. “Yeah, they cried a lot and asked me a hundred questions. Some of which, actually made me feel a little better … _a little.”_

            Jensen adjusts his body, trying to find some give against the hard press of the ground. “Like what?”

            “Well, they started by asking _which_ charity I was from. Apparently mine wasn’t the only one that was contacted; there were a half dozen more. I guess …” he takes another uneasy breath, looking up towards the rusting sky as he finally lets it out into the wind, “I guess every one either took too long to respond, or thought there wasn’t validity in their tale. I’m not sure where it all went wrong, but it all went very wrong for them very quickly.”

            Jensen watches the man deflate, looking back down to the base of the tree, letting his brow knit together as he says his silent apologies to the girl.

            “I just wish I had believed them.” Misha pulls his knees into his chest and drops his chin down, letting his body curl into itself and shudder on the rush of memories.

            Jensen slides over, feeling himself pull to the man like rain pulls to the earth— _it needs to happen_ , there’s no other option. He wraps him in his arms, letting his head rest against the dark, ruffled tendrils, flitting in the breeze. They sit and breathe, and melt into each other until their muscles relax. Misha ducks down and kisses Jensen’s arm, eventually peeking over to catch the thinned lines of green that smile a little deeper when they meet the blue. He leans in and they kiss to fill the spaces where words just won’t do. Their lips touch to say _thank_ _you_. Their grips tighten to say _always._ And as he pulls away to look back towards the little tree, deep red against the twenty thousand shades of green, Misha smiles.

            “Merry Christmas, Sarah.”

            “Merry Christmas, Sarah” Jensen repeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was something I wasn't originally planning for the story, but I thought of it the other day and couldn't get it out of my mind. Please let me know if I made the right call in adding it. As always, thank you so much for reading!


	28. Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

_He dances_. It seems that way—through life, through words, through people’s minds, Misha dances. He’s that rhythm that soothes, that pace that calms. He’s the steady drip of rain, the perfectly timed chirps of birds; and now, as they sit on this plane headed north for cooler air and widespread ease, Jensen stares at his watch. The hands are _expertly_ crafted—long, golden deliberate. He observes them as they caress the ceramic face little by little, and he thinks of the man dancing away with everything he has.

            “It’s still there, buddy. Nobody took your precious watch” Jared interrupts, elbowing Jensen’s arm playfully and snapping him out of his daze.

            “What? _Oh_ , yeah … I know.”

            “Uh huh, well I could only assume you were worried about it disappearing by the way you’ve been staring at it the whole flight.” The long haired man leans forward, trying to catch his eyes, but they’ve traveled back to the leather band and gold rimmed glass, still reflecting bits of blue.

            “ _Nah_ , man. I just like it” Jensen finally answers, feeling no need to lie. Jared knows him too well. _He_ knows Jared too well—they are both just happy that he’s happy.

            His tall friend laughs and shakes his head, finally leaning back in his seat and returning his headphones to his ears. Jensen listens to the faint sounds of Brian Buckley, humming beside him— _Jared is showing his softer side_ ; _no Pearl Jam tonight_. He, turns back and smiles to himself once more as the watch’s hands come together, holding each other gracefully for too short a moment. His lips uncurl as the pair breaks apart; the longer one pushing towards the hurtles ahead and working too hard to get back to the other’s side. _It’s always tough_ , it seems to stretch on forever, _but it makes it_ —it makes it just as the wheels of the plane touch down on the bay.

***

            “I’m so sorry, but Mr. Ackles’s room was double booked. I really don’t know how this error occurred.” The short haired woman almost seems to seize beneath the pressed folds of her dark blue blazer. Clif stares at her; as usual—looking far more intimidating than he’s intending. Jensen pushes him aside, giving him a glare that he knows the man will understand. Clif nods and backs away.

            “ _Hi_ ,” Jensen says sweetly to the woman, who instantly relaxes at the sight of his much gentler face. “So, _what_ exactly happened?”

            The woman reddens and fidgets behind the desk, tilting her head down so it looks like she’s about to answer the stapler and not him. “Your room was double booked, sir—it’s no longer available, so all we have left is the two-room suite we had reserved for Mr. Padalecki.” Her eyes flash over to Jared standing a few feet behind him, and her knees nearly buckle. “ _Your_ —your guys’ conventions always book us up.” The woman blushes and Jensen holds back the desire to laugh.

            He turns to Jared and leans against the counter, letting his body curl like a human question mark. “ _Two_ rooms? _Really_?”

            Jared brings his attention back from the cavernous interior of the hotel and smiles wide as he grandly chews on his gum. “ _What_? I like to spread out.”

            “You’re _tall_ , I get that—but you don’t need _two rooms_ to fit all of you.” Jensen laughs and turns back to the woman at the desk, tilting his head in Jared’s direction. “It’s fine. He and I will just share.”

            “ _What_?” Jared appears at his side, startling him and making him take a step back. “Aw … no, man. I wanted my privacy.”

            “Dude, _really_?”

            Jared glares at him, his face taking on a very rare, serious expression. “ _Yeah_. Gen and I were going to talk on the phone and … _you know_ …”

            Jensen’s eyebrows rise as he nods in understanding. He leans in a little “ _Well_ … I’d be in the other room, you know—I wouldn’t be able to hear you.” He only receives a Sam-worthy _bitch face_ in return. They both glance awkwardly back to the woman at the desk; but she’s oblivious, staring dreamily at Jared.

            The two men round again and look out towards the lobby, dark and vacant as the rest of the world sleeps. Their flight got in late, and Jensen just wants to lie down—he just wants to sleep, considering they have to be up in six hours and on stage for a morning panel. These conventions are _considerably_ more fun when he’s well rested.

           “Hold on, I got an idea!” The devilish gleam returns cozily to his friend’s eyes as he reaches into his pocket to grab his phone. Jensen stares at him, scrunching up his face, trying to figure exactly what the goof is up to. Another moment passes and Jared finally looks up with a smile. “Okay, hold on _one minute_. We’ll get this all figured out.”

            “What are trying to do?” Jensen asks, squinting at the guy, hoping to decipher his intentions.

            “You’ll see.” Jared lets his giant body rock back, leaning against the desk. He looks up, smacking his gum so loud, it almost echoes—wondering at the glass ceiling as it illuminates with the soft glow of the moon.

 

            Another couple minutes pass before Jensen sees him—the familiar dark head and blue eyes trouncing down the hall. His smile is immediate.

            “Hey,” Misha croaks groggily. His hair is a mess and the sweatpants he’s wearing ride low on his hips. His dark blue t-shirt clings tightly to his solid frame—causing Jensen to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his blood from pooling where it doesn’t need to go.

            “ _Hey_ , so here’s the deal: I need privacy so Gen and I can … _talk;_ and Jensen’s room got double booked. So I was thinking, how about you guys take the two-room suite I reserved and I’ll just take _your_ room.”

            Jensen feels his body cement, heavy and dense against the counter. His eyes burst as he looks between his two friends, and then slowly back to the woman behind him. Another woman walks out from a back room—coming to a stop at her coworker’s side, apparently seeing if she can assist the growing crowd in any way. Only, her presence is the _last_ _thing_ Jensen needs.

            “Yeah, I don’t see why not. I can clear out my room in a few minutes. I don’t have much to pack up” Misha says with a yawn.

            “Great—sound like a plan, Jensen?”

            Jensen’s hearing fuzzes out as he becomes aware of just _how_ _many_ unknowing souls are around him. Clif doesn’t know; he isn’t aware of his new dynamic with Misha—not that he would really care. But _these_ _women_ … what are _they_ thinking of all this? What will they assume? Will they talk about this later? The one is obviously a fan to some degree. Will she spread what she’s seen? There are so many rumors already, but the reality that he and Misha will be sharing a suite is a bit more confirming than any lingering hug or playful kiss on the cheek. _This is too much_ —it’s too much proof that the world doesn’t need to see. He doesn’t need thousands of people involved in this. He’s not ready … he doesn’t want them to know. _They can’t know_.

            “He’ll be fine with it” Misha finally says, answering for Jensen—as if he has the right to.

            And he may just have the right— _but not here_ , not now; not while the last few shreds of his privacy dangle against a razor’s edge.

            Jensen panics.

            “Oh yeah, that’ll be _fucking_ great! I’ll trade _the_ _moose_ for the guy with boundary issues!” he spits, turning back to the women at the front desk. They tense and give him placating smiles as he continues. “This is just going to be _awesome_! Why don’t I just share the room with Sebastian; that’ll be about as restful!” he finally turns to Jared, hoping to find him grinning to back up his words, but the man is sobered—eyebrows knitting and questioning every syllable that rolls off Jensen’s tongue. Misha’s squinted face comes into focus, looking just as confused … _and something else_. Jensen tries not to think about them. The roiling worry in his gut is too distracting anyway. “Well, I guess I’m in for a long, uncomfortable night”

            Jared shifts awkwardly as Jensen finishes his speech, leaning in so he can talk a little lower. “Man, if it’s _that_ big of a deal, we can share. I just thought …”

            “ _No_ , whatever man!” Jensen laughs too hard, causing his bark to bounce up the layered halls of the hotel. “You go play _kissy face_ with your wife; I’ll somehow manage with the gay angel.” His eyes shoot down as the last two words escape his throat, leaving an acidic burn in their wake.

            “ _Um_ …” Jared turns away, shrugging at their pajama-clad friend—now fully awake with folded arms pressed tightly across his chest. Jensen peeks up to see the piercing glare shoot from Misha’s eyes, and he turns away quickly, punched hard by the silent curses emitting from his blown pupils.

            “ _C’mon,_ Jared. You can put your stuff in my room while I pack up” Misha offers in a low rumble.

            “Um, yeah. _Okay_. I guess … I’ll see you tomorrow, man” Jared says, leaving Jensen with a gentle pat on the shoulder.

            Jensen glances up again, nodding softly, trying to avoid the lingering stare coming from his other friend. The man finally turns to follow Jared down the hall—Jensen watches them go, wincing with every hard fall of Misha’s feet. He sighs, turning back to the women at the desk, wanting to avoid their eyes as well. He imagines they may not think something's up with him and Misha anymore. They’ll just assume Jensen is an asshole. _It won’t be a rumor._

            Clif joins him, apparently knowing him well enough to see that he really doesn’t want to talk anymore. “Okay, so he’ll need the keys to the other suite.”

            The short haired woman smiles as she scans between them, finally typing some things into her computer and coding the keycards. She places them in a pocketed brochure and hands it over to Clif. Jensen is already turning away before the _Thank you’s_ can be exchanged. Clif catches up with him at the elevator, standing close while they watch the numbers tick down above the door.

            The moments pass, and the hall is quiet—allowing Jensen to play over the last few minutes in excruciating detail. The doors finally pull open, but they don’t break him from his thoughts. The men move inside, hearing a _ding_ before getting shut in. Jensen watches Clif’s reflection in the mirrored facing of the elevator. It reaches out to nudge his arm, but he doesn’t turn to meet the grizzled face—he knows what it wants.

            “So—uh, Jensen? What was all that about?”

***

            The hard knock echoes through the common room of the suite. Jensen sighs as he turns from the bay window. The lights reflecting on the water were a nice distraction. He could almost pretend that he was _out there_ … where his words would just sink, not crack the surfaces they fell upon. He turns slowly and takes too long to reach the door—opening it just as another knock hammers into the wood.

            “Oh _good._ I thought you were going to let me sleep in the hall” Misha hisses, pushing past him without even looking him in the eye.

            “No. _Sorry_. I was in the can.” Jensen shrinks, not knowing why he’s lying.

            Misha only huffs as he looks about the space. “Which one are you in?”

            Jensen shuts the door, turning to face his friend’s back, wanting him to turn around while also praying to the heavens that he doesn’t. “What?”

            “The rooms—which one are you in?” Misha clarifies, an audible edge to his voice. He gestures towards one of the doors to emphasize his question.

            “ _Oh_ , um … I’m set up in the one on the left.”

            Misha doesn’t speak as he jets off to the right, pushing open the cracked door with his foot and disappearing inside.

            Jensen steps up a little, craning his neck to watch the man’s silhouette move around beyond the frame. “Do … do you want a drink, man?”

            “No.”

            Jensen flinches with the fierce, short reply. “Do you want something to eat?”

            Misha emerges, stomping out into the living area and looking around the couches. “It’s two in the morning, Jensen. I just want to sleep.” He collects a couple of the decorative pillows that line the seats. _He likes to sleep against them._ It’s something he always does in the nights they spend together—the bed of Jensen’s trailer is now littered with various pillows. _It’s suffocating._ But the content smile that always graces his friend’s lips is well worth the lack of air.

            He feels his stomach drop with the man's icy tones. Misha is still working hard to keep their eyes from meeting. “Okay, well …” Jensen takes a deep breath, knowing neither of them will really be able to rest until they’ve at least acknowledged this, “are you okay?”

            “I’m just wonderful, Jensen. Why do you ask?” Misha finally whips his head to glare at him, letting his corrosive sarcasm coat the room and eat away at Jensen’s resolve.

            “I— _I don’t know.”_

            The dark haired man drops the pillows back down and paces towards him, locking his eyes on Jensen’s face. “Oh, _come_ _now_ , don’t play dumb. You’re much too good of an actor, Jen. People might actually start to _believe_ you.”

            The bitterness geysers through him, steaming against his guilt and the stubborn will to prove he was somehow justified. “Dude, I just didn’t want this shit to be obvious” Jensen finally breaks, tracing an imaginary line between them with his finger.

            Misha scoffs, rolling his eyes so hard it jerks his head back, breaking his heated glare. “Oh, _don’t worry_ … nothing about us being intimate was obvious back there. The only obvious thing was your need to _demean_ _me_ the moment you get uncomfortable. Do you think that makes you look stronger somehow? Do you feel better when you make others feel like they're beneath you?”

            “What? _No_! Of course not!”

            “Forgive me; I’m just trying to understand … I’ve always been interested in the bully-mentality.

            Jensen feels his face burn, seeping back until his ears turn cherry red and ache the sides of his head. “I wasn’t being _a bully_ … I just don’t like people getting into my business.”

            Misha steps in closer, hardening his eyes making them seem as cold and emotionless as glass. “Oh, yes … I know that. _God forbid_ anything threaten the little box you close yourself in; even if it’s just a friend trying to find a simple solution to one of _your_ problems. Even if it’s something that wouldn’t have looked suspicious at all if you hadn’t made such a big to-do about it. Even if it means strapping me to a target while you practice throwing your knives!” Misha covers a little more ground, crowding into Jensen’s air, “As long as _you_ feel secure, then it’s all worth it, I imagine.” The man turns away, letting the remainder of his venom spit out towards the windows. “ _Yeah_ … you were _completely_ justified. My mistake.”

            “I’m not …” Jensen sighs, trying to soften his voice. After all, he’s really not angry—he knows this is on him, but he hates being backed into a corner; he throws punches before thoughts. “I’m not saying what I did was justified, _not at all_. I’m just explaining _why_ I said it. I—I didn’t mean it and I’m sorry. _Really_ …” he walks towards Misha, reaching out to touch his shoulder, shivering as the familiar shape molds to his palm. “Mish, I’m really, really sorry.”

            His hand is left hanging in the air as the man pulls away. Jensen watches as his friend powers towards the other room, stopping just shy of the door and turning around—he doesn’t look hard anymore, his eyes are no longer flat and cold … just sunken, drifting down into the same expression he had back in the lobby. Jensen can see it now; it’s clear and easily discerned without the fog of panic filling his head. _The man is disappointed_.

            “I suppose I shouldn’t let it get to me—after all, it’s not like you haven’t said similar things before. I just—” his voice fades a little as he turns back to face his room, “I just thought things were different now.”

            Jensen’s shatters with the _click_ of the closing door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just wanted to give you guys a heads up ... there are only a couple chapters left of this fic, maybe a little more-- but it is ending soon *sniffles*. I don't want you guys to be unprepared ... feel free to leave me angry comments *braces self*. Again, thank you for always coming back and reading! I love you all!


	29. Just Don't Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            The swill in his cup is barely tolerable—but Jensen chokes it down anyway. He always wonders how expensive hotels like this one can justify supplying such cheap coffee for their rooms. He knows he’ll get more later—someone will make a run to Starbucks and get him a _real_ latte; but he needs some caffeine now … if he’s going to talk to Misha.

            He leans against the half wall near the front door of the suite, trailing his eyes slowly between his friend’s room and the wide window reflecting the beautiful sunrise over the bay. _Misha should be seeing this; he’d love to see this._ Jensen wants to knock on his door—wake the man up so they can watch the sun catch the bridge and set fire to the water beneath, but he knows it’s not a good enough reason. If Misha isn’t up yet, it’s either because he didn’t get much sleep and is too exhausted to be his usual-early self, or he’s simply just avoiding Jensen altogether. _Both are probably true_. His heart sinks with another gulp of the rancid coffee.

            The sound of the front door clicking behind him almost makes him jump out of his skin. _Housekeeping shouldn’t be here this early._ The door swings wide and sandwiches him against the half wall—sloshing his coffee over the edge of his cup and onto his hand.

            “Wo-woah! _Hey!”_ he yelps, pushing back on the door, making it thump against whoever is walking through.

            “ _Oh_ … sorry. I didn’t know you’d be behind the door” Misha mumbles, his voice sounding much softer than it did last night. “Why … why _are_ you standing behind the door?”

            Jensen walks over to the small kitchenette and grabs some paper towel to wipe off his hand, trying to hide his surprise that Misha hasn’t even been here and he’s been tip-toeing around the suite for nothing. “I—I was watching the sun come up.” He finally looks at the man; his soft, red shirt, darkened with sweat. _He was jogging … of course he was jogging._

            “Yeah … it is pretty here, isn’t it?” Misha mutters gently, glancing to the window, letting the deep, orange rays collect in his eyes. The sheen on his skin highlights his angles, making him look chiseled and solid.

            Jensen wants to touch him. “ _Yeah_.”

            Misha finally looks back—traces of a sad smile still playing on his face. “You’re panel starts at eight, right?”

            Jensen nods and looks down at his cup, swirling it around in his hand.

            “Well … have fun with it, okay? The fans are really excited that you’re here.”

            Jensen nods again, thinking how strange this conversation sounds— _how starched._ He looks up when he hears Misha sigh.

            “Jen, I know things are … _off_ with us … but don’t let this take away from them.”

            “What?” Jensen asks, thoroughly confused by what the man is getting at.

            “ _The fans_ … the people out there that have been looking forward to this day for a long time. Whatever is happening with you and me, shouldn’t be taken out on them.”

            Jensen scrunches his face, wondering what he has done or said in the past minute that would make the guy think he would be angry with the fans.

            Misha cuts him off before he can even start, stepping a little closer and hardening his features. “Don’t let _this_ be what you think about on stage, alright? Go up there, have fun—joke with Jared and give the crowd a good show. I know …” he breaks off, looking at the ground while mulling over how to phrase his words, “I know how this sort of thing can affect your mood, and I would hate to think that something between us, ruins the day for a thousand people.”

            Jensen feels like he should be getting angry, or sad … or _something_ , but the sun rises a little more, casting perfectly placed shadows along the man’s body, making his arms, his chest, his shoulders all round and soften and beg to be held. Jensen turns away, wanting to cling hard to the next emotion that passes through his mind. He wants to be decisive, confirmed in how he feels; but he can’t. Nothing is solid about this foundation he laid for them. It crumbles with every step—it sways and buckles and all he can do is hold on for dear life and try not to spill more of his coffee.

            “Can you do that for me? Can you put whatever we’re dealing with on the back burner until the end of the convention? It’s _only_ a day … they just need the day.”

            Jensen finally looks back, realizing exactly what Misha is asking of him. “You want us to act?”

            Misha stares at him hard, keeping his face impossibly still as he speaks “Essentially, _yes_. We will just act how we always do—mess around, joke around. We will not let on that anything has changed between us.”

            The coffee turns to acid in his stomach. He sets down his cup on the counter and pushes quickly towards his friend. “Has … _has_ something changed?” Jensen asks in a panic.

            Misha takes a step back, confirming his fears. “Let’s just talk about it at the end of the day, alright?” The man nods to himself and begins to walk towards his room, but Jensen reaches out and grabs his arm, stopping him cold.

            “ _No_ , I need to at least know _that_. You can’t expect me to act like everything’s okay if you’re pretty much telling me now that it isn’t … that _we’re_ …”

            “ _I’m not_ … I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that we have some things to talk about, but to start the conversation now would be unfair to a ton of people who we owe a lot to. They deserve our undivided attention today, wouldn’t you agree?”

            Jensen let’s go of Misha’s arm, missing the feel of his skin as soon as it’s gone. “Yeah, but …”

            Misha sighs, sounding slightly frustrated, making Jensen’s skin itch. “You’ve acted while angry or upset a million times, Jensen. This shouldn’t be different.”

            “It’s _all_ different now” Jensen grumbles, looking down, feeling like he could just fall to the floor and pout.

            “ _Not_ as different as I would have liked! Not as different as _I thought_ it should have been, given the last few months.” Misha’s tone spikes and burns, making Jensen shrink even more. “What was displayed last night was something that felt all too reminiscent of the last six years—when I was nothing more to you than the punchline to your jokes. So, it really shouldn’t be too hard for you to fall back into that old routine. So if you in fact, _have_ favored me more in _any way_ , than act like everything is how it used to be; not just for the fans, but _for me_. If you care _even slightly_ more for me as a person, you’ll do that without hesitation.” Misha leans in, raising his eyebrows, looking like an expectant father, waiting to be obeyed.

            Jensen nods, glancing up and wondering how _he_ could be the one responsible for making this man so guarded. He shouldn’t be capable of such a thing. It’s not who he wants to be. “Yeah … yeah, Mish. It’ll be fine, alright?” He sighs, standing a little straighter, resolving to portray the man he expects of himself. “I’m sorry, I’ll make sure everyone thinks it’s all okay.”

            Misha relaxes, reaching up to wipe the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. After a quick nod he turns and walks towards his room, gliding through the door and reaching back to shut it behind him.

            “I’ll … I’ll see you at the photo ops?” Jensen asks, desperately wanting to hear the man’s voice again, even if it’s filled with needles.

            Misha responds, sounding tired – _finished_. “Yeah … I’ll see you there.”

***

            They watch the volunteers buzz around back stage. Rob and the rest of the boys from the band fiddle with their instruments, giving a raucous ambiance to the large room. Jared sits across from him at one of the small, round tables behind the curtains of the stage. The growing crowd outside makes them both tense up—this is one of the bigger groupings they’ve ever had to talk to. _It’s intimidating._

            “So, are you and Misha alright?”

            Jensen looks down at his hand resting on the table, staring at the watch on his wrist. It feels too tight. “I honestly don’t know.”

            Jared looks up with a sigh and leans forward, propping his head in his hands. “Man, I’m _really_ sorry. I seriously should have thought that through a bit more—or at least have told you what I was doing. I’m a fucking dumbass.”

            Jensen glances up at him and smiles. “ _Nah_ , man. It really wasn’t anything I needed to freak out about; but … _you know me_ , if I’m going to freak out, I have to make it memorable.” He tries to laugh, to lighten the mood and keep things eased—just like he promised Misha he would. Jared doesn’t join in.

            “No, I should’ve known better. This is a completely different environment for you guys now. I can’t … _I can’t_ imagine how weird it must be for the both of you. I know if it were me, my panic attacks would be much more notable.”

            Jensen huffs out a confirming chuckle. “Yeah, well … it might not be something I have to get used to anyway … so, I suppose I shouldn’t worry about it too much.”

            His tall friend sits back up and leans in, reaching his hand out across the table, as if he could physically pull the information from Jensen’s lips. “What do you mean?”

            Jensen turns away, looking towards the door at the back of the room as a few more volunteers walk through it. “I mean … Misha might want to end things after my little display last night; and honestly, I wouldn’t blame him one bit.” He swallows the lump that formed with his last sentence. _Don’t lose it. Act normal._

            “Dude … did he say that?”

            Jensen shakes his head. “No … but I feel like he wanted to.”

            The tall man gets up, dragging his chair around the table and placing it directly in front of Jensen’s knees. He sits down, pushing in so the blues and greens in his eyes shine bright and clear with his sincerity. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Jensen. If there’s one thing Misha doesn’t do, it’s play mind games.”

            Jensen scoffs, rolling his eyes and trying to lean back from his buddy’s forced feelings-session. “Are you _kidding me_? That’s _all_ he does. If he could make a living on mind games, he would be a billionaire.”

            Jared stays stoic, adjusting himself in his seat. “Yeah, he plays around when he knows everyone involved is on board with the game. But, when something is serious or when _he’s_ serious about something—he doesn’t joke. He’s _crystal clear._ It’s something I know I admire greatly in him; so don’t put words in his mouth. I’m—I’m not saying that things will go well for you two. I don’t know what will happen on _that_ front … but I _do_ know that you shouldn’t worry about things he hasn’t said yet. The fact that he hasn’t ended things tells me that he’s not sure if he wants to. Give him time to think and just … just don’t be _an ass_ until you know for sure.” He drops a heavy hand on Jensen’s thigh, making him finally meet his gaze. “ _Alright_?”

            “Yeah, you’re right.”

            “Of course I’m right. I’m _always_ right. I’m the god damn _king_ of right!”

            Jensen laughs, this time—far more genuine than the last “Well, if I know _anything_ for sure, it’s that nothing has ever been _less_ true than _that_ statement.”

            Jared sits back and slouches in his seat, smiling big and goofy—like he has ever since the day they met … like he probably will until the day he dies. “ _Yeah_ … I’m the king of lies too. It’s a very complicated monarchy.”

***

            He’s a little surprised—how easy it is to pretend. It almost isn’t even pretending—he feels okay, all things considered. The morning panel went smoothly. He and Jared had a good time and it’s a particularly fun-loving crowd today; and just like on set, just like every scene he plays with the guy, it doesn’t even take _thought_ to be next to best friend. It’s not work and it’s not strained. It’s simple, easy fun. Jared even ran interference during the photos they took with Misha after the first panel—talking to the guy about everything and anything, making sure that there wasn’t a moment for unnecessary tension. A couple of the fan’s requests made it hard, however; but all Jensen had to do then was look at Misha and remember his promise to act natural. He just hopes that all the pictures that come from this day prove his efforts worthwhile, since Misha’s silent retreat afterwards made Jensen want to curl into himself and hide until he could go home. Now, he pushes everything else back and falls in line with the gentle flow of the second panel with Jared—only ever faltering when he catches a glimpse of his watch, knowing that it’s ticking down to something that could just break him.

          Jared gestures grandly—answering the brunt of the questions, proving for the hundredth time today why he’s the best friend a guy could ask for. It actually relaxes Jensen enough to liven up a little. They laugh, and joke around with a few of the fans. He tells some stories and forgets that there’s anything but joy to be felt, _at least for a moment_.

            Then, Misha gets brought up—not directly, but he’s mentioned. Jensen plasters the calm expression on his face as Jared gives him a quick, knowing glance. The man takes over answering the question, allowing his green eyed friend a minute to cope. Jared explains the pranks they play and why he and Jensen no longer play them each other. It’s something they’ve been asked before, but Jensen knows where this will lead—he knows who they’ll inevitably end up talking about. It’s how this question _always_ ends.

            “We stopped, ya know? Like Sam and Dean, we knew the stakes were going to get _higher_ and _higher_ and _higher_.”

            The crowd laughs and claps, staring back at them with wide, expectant eyes. Jensen looks across the sea of faces, a little amazed at just how much they hang on every word that is said. _They really are living for this, aren’t they?_ It’s strange and wonderful, and he feels empowered and humbled all at once. _Misha is right_ —he needs to not be selfish. He shouldn’t worry about himself or whatever might be happening with his relationship with his best friend. These people brought him everything he has, after all. He wouldn’t _have_ his best friends, his life—his happiness if not for these fans and their unwavering dedication to the show. He’s acting dumb. _They’re going to talk about Misha—they’re going to ask._ He’ll have to answer _._ That can’t faze him. They all love the guy as much as he does … and, _he does._ No matter what, Jensen doesn’t regret a damn thing. He could _never_ regret it. He needs to be happy, just happy that it happened—even if it’s all about to end.

            Jared’s voice pulls him back in as the guy tries to keep talking, probably wanting to ensure that his buddy doesn’t have to.

            Jensen falls into the memories of the early years when they were still trying to one up each other—when they were young and stupid … _well, young._ They’re still stupid as far as he’s concerned _._ “I think the last one I did was probably … probably season two” he looks back to Jared and watches the man’s face relax as he acknowledges that Jensen is alright “I TPed his _entire_ trailer …” he continues on with his story of his last prank, laughing as Jared adds in—but just like he knew it would, it comes back to Misha. Although, he doesn’t panic now … he doesn’t stumble over his words. Jensen only smiles to himself as he remembers everything that drew him to those blue eyes. He jokes and teases, thinking he should be feeling guilty for making fun of him again, but he doesn’t. It’s different – _this_ kind of teasing is different. It’s not cruel and it’s not panicked. Every word that comes out of his mouth is riddled with the taste of his friend, the memories of every second on set, every deep conversation and silly argument—every prolonged stare. As he likens the guy to a marionette, mimicking Cas’s first lines in the most obnoxious, robotic voice he can manage—he remembers how the man’s jaw felt against his palm. The crowd fades as he thinks of the low hum of Misha’s moans—how his grin grew bigger the moment Jensen told him he wanted him to stay that day in his trailer. How they fell on the ground as they kissed, rolling over each other … moving to the bed … truly feeling one another for the first time. He remembers out loud the safer memories, the ones that the world can hear without hesitation; but behind his eyes, flowing steady and calm across the ripples of his mind, are the memories just for _him_. They make him happy. They make him happier than anything.

***

            He wasn’t planning on it. Honestly, when he put the shirt on this morning, he just wanted to feel a little closer to the person he may not get to be close to again. He picked out a button-up that he knew would cover it completely—one he stole from the show after they filmed his de-aging episode. It was comfy and he liked the colors, so he snagged it from wardrobe when no one was looking. It also just happened to match pretty well with the Christmas, Random Acts shirt; so he put on the pair, paying extra attention to how the light grey fabric smoothed across his skin—and he left the suite for the first event of the day.

            But then Jared said something about “beefcakes” and started to do a silly, little strip tease, so Jensen followed suit—only realizing as the last button of his over-shirt pulled apart, that everyone in the room was going to see what he had on underneath.

            _The crowd is going nuts._

They love it, every second of it and he finds himself grinning before he can even worry over all the crazy theories that are going through a thousand heads. He knows what they’re thinking this is. He can hear them now: _He’s wearing his boyfriend’s shirt! Look how proud he is, he wants to show it off!_ Jared’s laughter fills his ears, louder than the rest—the band starts playing a sultry beat and he can’t help but think how similar this is to the times he shared the stage with Misha. The old confidence runs through him again—he can all but see the man’s blue eyes squint as he grins at his antics. He loves putting on a show for him, acting crazy like he never gets to with Jared on the stage—not in the same way, at least. Jensen stands up from his chair, pointing at his shirt. The crowd erupts again. The drums continue to pound, vibrating the stage and moving up to his hips. He walks forward, pulling back the top of his button-up to further display the smiling, monkey-face underneath. Back and forth—his hips sway, perfectly timed. The shirt hugs him tightly, shifting along his skin—soft, perfect, flawless. He remembers Misha’s hands gliding over his chest. He grins. The music picks up and he moves faster, looking back to see Jared throwing pretend money on him. Jensen reaches into his back pocket to hand the guy some real cash, feeling the need to add to the effect of _whatever_ it is he’s doing. He doesn’t care what he’s doing though, because he’s doing something that he knows would make Misha smile if he were watching. He is being the man his friend wants him to be—the one _he_ enjoys being whenever Misha is around. _He doesn’t have to be around._ Jensen keeps dancing, for once, not caring at all about what people might say.

***

            The keycard feels heavy in his hand as he stands outside the suite. He was advised to change clothes by his handler, since the shirt might prove to be a distraction with all the photos that they have yet to do. Jensen agreed, thinking that it might not be a good idea to draw any extra attention to something that connects him so closely with Misha—especially since he’s not even sure how close they really are anymore. He slides the card into the slot, watching the light flash green. He pushes the door open, blinking hard against the sun glinting through the window off the water of the bay. It’s only blocked by his friend, standing rigid and looking out at the choppy waves below. Misha turns as he hears him come in through the door.

            “Hey … how’d it go?” he asks softly.

            Jensen lets the door fall shut behind him, still squinting, trying to find the details in Misha’s face. “Good, I think everyone enjoyed it.”

            His friend nods while turning completely around and taking a few steps towards the coffee table in front of him. He bends down to pick up the cell phone that is resting on the glass surface. He pulls it close to his face and studies it, leaving Jensen to wait and wonder if there is anything left to be said. More painful seconds pass, but Misha remains entranced by whatever is on the screen. Jensen deflates, slumping his shoulders down and conceding that this may just be how it is from now on. He begins the long march back to his room, letting his mind travel to what he should change into for the next round of photo ops.

            “I got some interesting tweets.” Misha’s voice stops him a few feet from the door.

            Jensen turn back, feeling a little nervous about where this is going—or if Misha is really just trying to make small talk with him—something so impersonal feels almost worse than the frigid arguments that have framed their time in San Francisco so far. He lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck, trying to ease the ache forming in his muscles. “Oh yeah? Uh … what about?”

            The man’s lips twitch with the hint of a smile before he blindly maneuvers around the coffee table towards Jensen’s uneasy form. Misha halts beside him, close enough that Jensen can smell his shampoo and tingle with the need to run his hands through his hair. As he stares at his friend’s downcast face, the cell phone is lifted up to block his view. On the screen, encased in overused exclamation points, is a picture of him on stage, mid-dance, flashing the shirt from Misha’s charity.

            “Damn—they’re quick” is all Jensen can manage to say.

            “Well, _yeah_ ” Misha chuckles, turning the phone back so he can look at it a little more. A larger smile creeps across his cheeks. Jensen grins big as he sees it. “Did you …” Misha doesn’t look up, and the smile falls as he hesitates—Jensen’s does the same. “did you do this for me?”

            He opens his mouth to speak, realizing too late that he has no idea what to say. He gapes—unsure if he should lie and say _yes_ … tell his friend that this was a grand gesture to say _I’m sorry for being an ass._ Or if he should tell him the truth—that he just wanted to feel a little closer to him. That he was scared that everything was falling apart and he just needed to hold onto something. _One certainly sounds more pathetic than the other_. He’s not sure what Misha wants to hear. He’s not sure if telling him the truth will make things worse. Then again, Jensen knows that he doesn’t really have any other option. He’s not a liar—it’s not who he is. “I did it for me …” He watches as Misha’s eyes shoot up, staring at him with fierce intensity while his brow furrows.

            “ _For you_?”

            “Yeah. I—I was scared that this …” Jensen takes a deep breath and stares down at their feet, noticing how Misha’s scoot in a little closer. “I was scared that this might be over. So, I wanted to feel like you were close again.”

            “So you wear a sock-monkey shirt and dance in front of a crowd?” Misha laughs.

            The sound compels Jensen to meet his friend’s gaze once more. “ _No_ , I was just messing around with all that. I kind of forgot I had it on …” he rubs the back of his neck again as he smiles, sheepishly. “The dancing and stuff sort of just _happened_. The fans really seemed to love it though.”

            Misha nods and chuckles, looking back to his phone for a moment and then glancing over to the window. He grins wider as the California wind blows heavy on the glass, making it shake and rattle in the panes. He sighs while peering back, clicking the side button on his phone to darken the screen before returning it to his back pocket. Jensen watches the man fold his arms, looking like a bemused, old college professor in his dark blue sweater. “You know, Jen. It’s really hard to stay pissed at you when you do adorable shit like _this_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, most of you have probably figured out that this is directly from SFcon in January. This was the convention I went to and after the RA-shirt dance happened right in front of my fricken eyes, I knew I wanted to try to work it into this fic. I wanted something real to back up all the stuff I have basically made up. I feel it was a necessary element. I hope it was easy to follow. If there is any confusion, I suggest going and watching the J2 panels from that convention (mainly because it's hilarious) but you can also get a better sense of this scene. If there are any readers who were also at that con, please contact me on tumblr at castiel-left-his-mark-on-me. I'd love to hear about your experience and if you think there are any details here that I missed or botched completely. As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> Oh! And, if I have any artists in among my readers, I would so, desperately love to see fan art for this fic. I would proudly display it with the story as well as on my tumblr blog (with full credit to you of course). So if you have a favorite scene and would want to to draw something, I'd love you forever. Thank you!


	30. Vacant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            “Babe, what’s wrong?”

            Jensen sighs heavy into the palm of his hand, not knowing why he’s even bothering to hide it from Danneel, _she always knows_. “I really pissed Misha off last night. Like … I don’t know if it’s fixable.”

            A gentle chuckle tickles his ear through the phone. “I _doubt_ that. You know he just gets fed up sometimes. The way you and Jared joke with him, I’m surprised he’s not fed up more often. He’ll come around.”

            “No—I think I _really_ offended him.”

            A pause fills his head and he can all but see his wife shifting in her seat. “How so?”

            Jensen lets his breath out slowly, mixing the heat of his body with the cool air of the hotel room. “I sort of whigged out on him … my room was double booked, so … Jared suggested that Mish and I share but he … he said it in front of _Clif_ and the hotel people and I—I just kind of freaked.”

            “What _exactly_ did you say?” Danneel’s worry shakes her words.

            Jensen closes his eyes, trying to shut out the look that was on his friend’s face, but it’s still playing clearly on the inside of his lids. “I—I said he had boundary issues; and I said—I guess …” Jensen winces with the memories. “I acted like he was repulsive. I called him … I called him _the gay angel_.”

            “Jensen! _You didn’t_!”

            He stays quiet, guilt and shame twanging his vocal chords, making his throat itch.

            “I get why you freaked out, but why would you say _that_ of all things?”

            “I don’t know! I—I just went into panic mode! And Jared was there … and Clif and I guess I just did what came easiest, and that was … making fun of Misha.”

            Danneel scoffs so loud, he has to pull the phone away from his head. “It’s one thing to tease him; it’s another to be downright _rude_! And why the hell is _that_ what comes easiest to you, anyway?”

            “I don’t know! _Okay_? I just don’t fucking know and I already feel horrible about it! You don’t have to rub it in!”

            The second flustered sigh tumbles over the line, quieting Jensen into submission. “ _Babe,_ you’re not allowed to throw a pity party about this. You’re _too_ old and no one is going to show up. What you’re _going_ to do is apologize to your friend and try to fix this.”

            “I already _did_ apologize and more, but he didn’t want to hear it.”

            “Was that what the whole, _shirt-thing_ was about on twitter? He seemed pretty happy with it judging by his tweet.”

            “Well, I didn’t really do that on purpose; but his happiness about it was more for the fans, I think. He certainly didn’t seem too thrilled around _me_.”

            “Well, you’re just going to have to say it again and again, whether he listens or not because you’re not apologizing for _you_ , you’re apologizing for _him_.”

            Jensen sinks into the sofa, wanting to curl up so tight that no one could ever unwind him; but the flashing lights lining the bridge catch his eye. The water reflects the reverse, looking impossibly still for such a large bay. The dark surface is splattered with blues and golds—flecked with greens and browns. The window isn’t big enough to hold it all and it tumbles into the room, coating him with the city. He uncurls into the mix, washing away in the waves, floating gently beneath the bridge, counting the headlights that drive overhead and feeling calm for the first time since he’s arrived.

            “Jen, do you understand? You need to make him see how sorry you are—like, _right_ _now_.”

            Jensen relaxes his chest and sits a little straighter, smiling at the concerned tones in his wife’s voice. “ _I know_ , I will. I’m just waiting for him to come back to the room.”

            Danneel takes a moment and Jensen smiles again, knowing she’s worried about just how easy that was. “ _Oh_ … okay, _well_ … where is he now? He didn’t have autographs tonight, did he?”

            “No, but I think he might have gone out with Rob and the guys. I just got back from _my_ autographs, though.”

            “Okay, well …” Danneel sounds lost without being able to release the rest of her lecture, “how were your couple-ops with him? Were those awkward?”

            “A little at first.” Jensen thinks back over the last few hours—when they were back in this room before the ops; how the man pulled away when he tried to kiss him. How Misha looked: _hurt_ and _annoyed_ , saying “A shirt and a dance doesn’t erase everything else, Jensen.” He recalls how angry he felt, wondering why the guy would even bother giving him false hope—calling him _adorable_ and saying it was hard to stay mad, if he was in fact, _still mad._ Jensen thinks about how heavy Misha seemed as he shook his head and marched back towards his room on the other end of the suite. He thinks about how strange it was, walking beside him while going down for the photo ops, his frustration dissolving with every step—wanting so badly for his friend to talk to him; and when he finally did, the only words that came were “ _Please_ , just act normal.”

          Jensen looks back to the water to ease himself once more; his wife, still breathing softly into the phone. “He asked me to act normal, so … that’s what I did. That’s what _he_ did for the most part too, but – I could tell, he just seemed sad at times. So I tried to play it up even more, to take the pressure off him. I—I don’t know if it helped him, but I _hope_ it did.”

            “I’m sure it helped, babe” Danneel responds, softer and sweeter than before. “I’m sure he appreciated that.”

            “I hope so.”

            “I _know_ so.”

            The front door twitches as the handle jiggles. The calm waters that filled the room quickly churn, sloshing against his chest, tightening and crushing it beneath the waves.

            “I—I think he’s back, babe. I gotta go.”

            “Okay, good luck. I love you.”

            “Love you too.” Jensen quickly ends the call and darkens the screen, sliding his phone onto the coffee table while standing up—desperately trying to figure out what to do with his hands. He finally settles on shoving them in his pockets just as the door swings open. He smiles wide as Misha walks in, only receiving a weak smirk in response. His friend turns to shut the door, standing still for a moment and staring at the handle, lightly pressed with his fingers. Jensen freezes, thinking the guy might just open it back up and leave again.

            “We need to talk” Misha whispers, sounding tired; exhausted from fighting the weight of the day.

            Jensen drops his chin to his chest. “ _I know_.” He’s desperately trying not to think about the grade school connotations of his friend’s words.

            Misha turns around, taking his phone out of his pocket and walking over to set it on the counter of the kitchenette. _He obviously doesn’t want any distractions._ A heavy sigh rocks the man’s body before he finally commits to joining Jensen in the small living room. They stand across from one another, bouncing gracelessly from foot to foot, trying to avoid the other’s gaze.

            “Do you want to sit?” Jensen finally asks, gesturing towards the couch.

            “Sure, _yeah_. That’s probably a good idea.”

            They inch down onto the cushions, paying too much attention to the distance between them. More tortured silence fills their spaces, poking at every one of their raw, exposed nerves.

            Misha is the first to break. “What is it _exactly_ that you looking for here?”

            Jensen slowly raises his eyes to meet the curving blues. “ _Um_ , wh— _what_ do you mean?”

            “I want to know what you think the end result of all this is going to be, because you seem to have something in mind.”

            “I—I don’t know. _I_ …”

            “Well, you don’t seem content with things as they are … if you still get so upset at the slightest disruption to your norm. So, are you expecting this to change somehow? Somehow get better or easier—because I hate to break it to you, _this_ is _all_ it’s ever going to be. We will _always_ be dangling between work and the lives we can live in public.” Misha looks down, rubbing his palm across his knee. “You and I will always have to be something that’s hidden away—and if you can’t cope with that, then I can’t cope with _this_.”

            Jensen looks back at his phone on the coffee table, wishing he could talk to Danneel again—have her mediate this moment. He needs someone to translate what he really wants to say, especially since he barely knows himself. Misha stares at him, looking heavier and more depressed with each second that slices by—cutting the threads holding his hope for this. “Mish, I … I don’t expect anything.”

            The man rolls his eyes upward, letting all the milky white cradle his irises as they reach for the ceiling. “Well, something is wrong here, Jen and whatever it is, I can’t handle you taking it out on me.” Misha tumbles his sights back towards the depleted man to his right as the green eyes shiver with worry. “So, if you don’t have any solution, then we should probably end what we have going here … before it turns too ugly.”

            Jensen’s heart seizes so hard, it makes him jump—spanning the foot and a half of space they put between their bodies. His hands rush up the length of Misha’s arms, gliding over his shoulders and finally stopping to cup his neck. “No, Mish!” Jensen twines his fingers across the rolling hills of his friend’s spine, pulling him in close until their foreheads touch. He closes his eyes and breathes him in. “Nothing about this could be ugly. It could _never_ be ugly.”

            “Jensen … _stop_.”

            With his eyes still sealed shut, Jensen pushes out to silence the man with a desperate kiss, but Misha pulls away.

            “Jen, we _can’t_ …”

            Jensen doesn’t look, he can’t risk letting his friend stare away his nerve, so he keeps himself blind, feeling across Misha’s back, his shoulders, pulling him in closer until their chests collide with each breath. “ _Please_ , Mish.” He’s begging. He doesn’t even feel ashamed, although he knows he might be later. _No_ , now he just needs to be close to the man. He needs to keep him close.

            Misha’s palm slides up, pressing firmly into Jensen’s chest—not strong enough to move him away, but enough to seem as though that is his intention. Jensen brings his own hand to meet it, gripping Misha’s fingers tightly and holding them there as he leans in for another attempt at a kiss. His friend’s breath is heavy, but his lips react this time, meeting his with only a little hesitation; they curve over his bottom lip and suck it in, sending heated shocks across Jensen’s body.

            He’s gone. In a white haze, Jensen pushes the man back, sliding on top of him and weighing him down. Misha gasps as his shoulders collide with the arm of the couch. Jensen finally opens his eyes; taking special note of his friend’s flushed cheeks and the starved look plaguing his features. They fuel him forward, kissing the man again—more frenzied than before, offering little bites to his tongue, his chin … anything that falls between his teeth.

            “Jen, we should stop” Misha breathes, obviously still trying to hold onto his last bits of composure.

            Jensen accepts the challenge, sliding down towards the man’s waist, determined to obliterate his resolve.

            “ _Jensen_ …”

            “ _Shh_ ” Jensen mumbles, keeping his lips pursed as his pushes Misha’s sweater up, exposing the firm expanse of his friend’s stomach. He begins to drag his lips across the tanned skin, letting the salt and sweat seep onto his tongue. He revels in the taste. Jensen’s hair is quickly gripped by confused fingers—unsure if they want to pull his head away or push it further in so he can continue his excursion. They finally concede, allowing Jensen to graze up to the man’s ribs before finally falling back down until his chin is flinching against the button of Misha’s pants. Jensen’s hands move up without thought or direction, undoing and unzipping, yanking and tugging—revealing one glorious hip, and then the other. Jensen pulls back, staring at the sharp bones jutting out. Like the bridges around them, each ridge is connected by a bowing span, soft and smooth; rising up and down in waves, holding the man’s body together. The points of Misha’s hips shift beneath his skin as he wriggles, waiting for Jensen to move—but he can’t. He’s hypnotized. After too long without a breath, he shrivels—letting his thumb graze softly over one of the ridges, tracing its long line upward until it disappears beneath another, flexing muscle. Jensen bites his tongue, gripping Misha’s hip tighter as _his_ jeans tighten around him.

            “I could look at these forever” he moans, leaning back down to nip the bone beneath his thumb, feeling the man buck up against his lips. Misha doesn’t respond but his hands fall to the crook of Jensen’s arm and tug at it slightly, as if he’s trying to pull him away. Jensen resists; sliding over to lick along Misha’s other hip before traveling back to the high ground in the center, following the curve downward to the heat below. “ _God_ , Mish … you’re perfect.”

            Jensen dips further, moving his hands and curling his fingers back beneath the fabric keeping the rest of Misha’s skin from his touch. He begins to pull, wanting nothing more than to free his friend from his cotton confines, but his arms are grasped again—this time stronger, with more intention, and he’s dragged back up. He crawls with the force, over the beautiful hips, still shining with his saliva—over the firm, smooth stomach that he feels he neglected in some way. _It needs more attention._ Over the man’s chest, still covered with the scrunched up sweater and undershirt; _those need to come off._ Jensen is soon back at Misha’s chin, eyes wandering to halt at his friend’s pink, shaking lips. He licks his own, knowing they need the other man’s tongue to really feel quenched; but his eyes dart up to the cobalt stones that are pelting him. They ache with something he can’t decipher—not while the rest of his body hums with the need to be pressed into his friend’s skin. Misha’s throat bounces on the words that have been building within. Jensen’s stomach drops. _Don’t say stop. Don’t tell me to stop. Please, don’t tell me to stop._

            “ _Jensen_ —”

            “I want to feel you.” Jensen cuts him off, not even sure of what he’s saying, but knowing it’s the truth.

            “ _I know,_ but we shouldn’t—”

            “No, I want to feel _all_ of you … _please_ …” Jensen drops down, forcing his lips to drive home his implications—hoping the man understands, hoping _he_ understands what exactly he is asking for. His hands shoot back down, slipping beneath Misha’s boxers to grip his hardened shaft. He strokes as he kisses—begging with his tongue and his teeth, shocked when his friend grips him hard and forces him up. Jensen gazes wide eyed at a face, wrecked with confusion and want. The man below him seems to ask a thousand questions with the slightest blink. His nostrils flare in frustration, and Jensen wonders if Misha is more angry with him, or himself. He lets his free hand travel up to his friend’s cheek, stroking the dark stubble that has just started to peek out with the stars and the growing moon. Misha stays silent, and Jensen stays determined. “Please, Mish.” His other hand is still straining beneath the man’s boxers, trying to maintain its hold. Misha looks him up and down, something changing within his eyes. Jensen feels the girth in his palm heat up and expand; and the air is soon flooded with the thick scent of arousal. Before he can take another breath, his body is being flung back and pinned on the other end of the couch.

            Misha hovers over him—looking half crazed and vacant. “Take it off—take it all off.”

 

 

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a short chapter, but another should be posted today so don't hate me too much. Also, I know this kind of looks bad ... uhh ... be patient ... yeah.
> 
> Please don't kill me.


	31. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            Jensen wriggles out from beneath the looming body above him, keeping his eyes locked on his friend’s. He stands up and focuses his fingers to the buttons of his shirt, undoing the top and moving down at a steady pace. Misha watches—eyes still hollow, glazed over with the moment. The final button releases, letting Jensen’s bare chest welcome the room.

            Misha looks him over, blinking twice before his eyes flicker back to the hurt, low glow he’s had since last night. “No, okay … _no_ , we can’t be doing this.” He peels himself off the couch and walks back towards the center of the room—pulling his sweater down and resting his hands on his hips. Jensen is frozen; dread chilling every inch of burning skin. The man turns around, looking sad—ashamed, _guilty_ —every emotion Jensen saw in the mirror throughout the day. “This isn’t going to fix a _damn_ thing! Honestly, it’s just going to add to the problem! _This_ …” he gestures a long line between them, “this is eventually going to kill the friendship we have, you know that, right? This is going to wreck everything?”

            Jensen shakes his head, damning himself for still following every flick of Misha’s tongue instead of each word that falls off of it.

            Misha stares at him expectantly, giving up after too many moments. “There is _so_ much about this that I _know_ you don’t want, Jensen. You don’t want people _knowing_. You don’t want your personal life getting invaded. _Jesus Christ,_ out of _spite_ _alone_ , you don’t want every fan girl out there to win! And I certainly know that you don’t want _me_ all up … up _inside_ _you_!”

            Jensen moves closer, but stops as Misha steps away to keep their distance measured.

            “You don’t want _any_ of this, Jensen. So how the hell do you ever expect us to work it out? These things aren’t magic!” He twitches his fingers towards his waist. “We can’t just stick them in each other and blast away all our problems!”

            Jensen finally breaks from the subtle dance of the man’s jaw, letting his mind latch on to his words instead. He tilts his head, feeling a smile creep across his face. A laugh rumbles through him, bouncing up his throat until it explodes out, forcing his head back. He closes his eyes as he booms, knowing the look he’s probably getting—and it only makes him laugh more.

            “Jensen … it’s _really_ not funny.” But the slight crack in Misha’s voice says otherwise.

            He opens his eyes to meet his friend’s, but Misha quickly turns away, trying to keep from losing control. Jensen manages to catch a breath. “ _Blast away our problems!”_ He gasps, giving off another squinted, wheezing laugh.

            “For fuck’s sake, this is _serious_!” Misha demands, chuckling at the end of his words.

            Jensen blindly reaches out for the couch, finally catching the armrest, and seating himself on it while he calms. “ _Oh man_! I just had this _horrible_ mental image of Harry Potter type shit! Like you, screaming ‘ _abracadabra_!’ right when you bust a nut!” he bursts again, arching over himself and slapping his knee. He can hear Misha chuckling, still holding back for the sake of argument. Jensen takes a few more, short, humor-filled breaths before finally quieting and looking up to the man in front of him. Misha is biting his lip, peering towards the kitchen and sighing as he avoids everything to his left. The smile shifts to a smirk with the growing silence of the room.

            Creased, blue eyes once again turn to meet him. “You’re a real _ass_ , you know?”

            Jensen smiles softly, getting up to walk over and stand in front of his best friend, taking careful note of the lines etched into his cheeks— _they’re perfect_. “So I’ve been told.” He reaches out to grasp the man’s hips, pulling him in and kissing him on the nose. “How about we talk— _for real_ this time. I promise, I won’t molest you.”

            Misha grins wide glancing away once more, and Jensen smirks, still proud that he can make the man blush so easily.

            “ _Come on_.” Jensen slips back, grabbing onto Misha’s wrist and leading him to the couch. They sit down again, much closer than before and Jensen rebuttons his shirt. His friend finally reclines and Jensen puts his arm around his shoulders, making him tuck into his side. “So, what the fuck are we going to do about all this?” he whispers as Misha rests his head into the crook of his neck. 

            “ _You tell me_. You know I could give a shit what people think or know about my life; but this doesn’t just affect me. We got our families to think about.”

            “Yeah, I know. That’s why this has been so hard.” Jensen looks to the dark, shabby head below his, tilting down and breathing it in. He reaches over to stroke his friend’s arm. _If we could just do this forever, I’d be happy._

            “I can’t …” Misha begins and Jensen feels the man swallow uneasily, making his whole body tense against him. He squeezes Misha’s wrist, trying to let him know it’s okay … _whatever it is_ , it’s okay; and it’s true. Even though the thought of losing all this is eating him alive—the thought of going back to just pranks on set and lengthy hugs everywhere else makes him want to scream … even though he loves the man more than he even realized until this very moment, he doesn’t want to hurt him. He just _can’t_ hurt him anymore. “I can’t always be the _sane_ one. I’m too unstable for that” Misha mumbles, sinking a little more and Jensen pulls him in closer. “I can’t always be telling you it’s okay, or building you up, or trying to make myself big enough to protect you from the eyes of the world. It’s exhausting and I’m already stretched thin.”

            “I don’t want to be something you feel you have to take care of, Mish” Jensen groans “In fact, that idea annoys the hell out of me. I hate being a _burden_ on people.” He looks up, trying to blink away the embarrassment of knowing, _that’s exactly_ what he’s been so far. “I’m—I’m really sorry, you know … _for everything_.”

            “I know you are” Misha whispers, letting his hand move up and lace with Jensen’s across his arm. “I just wish there was an easy solution.”

            Jensen glances back down, thinking a moment before smiling and huffing out a little burst of air that makes Misha’s hair flit up. “ _There is_ —I can suck it up and stop being a douche bag.”

            Misha pulls away and turns to him, his brow furrowed slightly as he stares into Jensen’s serious eyes. “That sounds like the _hardest_ solution to me.”

Jensen laughs. “Oh thanks, man. Glad to know you have so much faith in me.”

           Misha shakes his head, dragging his knee up onto the couch so he can fully turn to face the man beside him. “You know what I mean. You can’t just turn off a deeply engrained reaction to things.”

            “No, but I can try—I can work on it until it’s not deeply engrained anymore. I’ll just sand myself down until I’m smooth.” Jensen smiles as he makes a wiping motion with his hand, watching as he dusts off all his future care, sweeping it out into the bay.

            “As much as I appreciate the wood-working analogies, Jensen, you _are not_ a two by four.”

            Jensen creaks back to look at his friend, grinning evilly, “I am in the place that counts.”

            Misha darts his eyes to the ceiling again, dragging his tongue across his lips while letting out a flustered groan. “Don’t give yourself so much credit.”

            Jensen huffs, tugging Misha back in and kissing him softly as he runs his hand through his hair. “The only credit I need is you.” Misha kisses him back and Jensen feels as if he just survived a battle—wondering at how easy this all is in comparison to the last twenty hours.

            “When did you become such a sap?” Misha muses between another round of gentle kisses.

            “I’ve always been sappy … you just have to sand away enough layers to let it seep out.”

            Misha snorts, pulling back and staring at him in surprise. “I think I’m rubbing off on you—that was pretty clever!”

            An overly offended scoff shakes the air, “Oh, well … _thank you_ so much for that!”

            Misha grins at him and Jensen grins back. They sit and stare and fall once more onto the firm line they had drawn over the previous months. With no one around, just the two of them, it’s easier … Jensen knew that’s how it would be. Parts of him wish that he could erase all the publicity—snap into a “normal” life that would somehow still keep him here, sitting across from this dork of a man. He imagines Danneel would be fine with it in that scenario. She would still be adventurous and open minded even without the fame. She would still be the woman he fell for. _JJ would certainly be better off._ The only part of fatherhood that he ever truly feared was that the part that most other fathers never have to think about—and that is the world looking at his child. He thinks about the average house he would have, _somewhere in Austin probably_. He would mow his lawn every weekend and go with his daughter wherever she wanted, never even worrying about someone taking a second look. He thinks that’s where he’d probably stumble into Misha—just out and about, because _knowing_ _him_ … he’d still be somewhat well known and probably travel a lot. With all the good the man does, he would _have_ to catch _some_ attention. They would meet and they would talk. They would hang out, become friends … then _more_. It wouldn’t be a struggle and no one would care who he was or that he was falling for a man. Life would be easy.

            The stories of what could have been continue to play out in the blue tones of Misha’s eyes and Jensen dazes away, watching it all like a movie he’ll never be lucky enough to star in.

            “So, do you really want to try and keep this going? You really think this is something you can become comfortable with?”

            Jensen blinks when Misha does, coming back to his much harsher reality. “I—I certainly want to try. I just need you to give me the chance.”

            Misha slides his hand up Jensen’s chest, gracing his neck for a moment before cupping his soft cheek. His thumb slides along his jaw, tickling Jensen’s skin and making him press into the touch. “I’m apparently _full_ of chances for you.”

***

            “Are you okay?” Misha asks for what seems like the hundredth time.

            “God da— _yes_ , Mish! I’m fine, would you just _go_ already?” Jensen spits, eyes still shut tight.

            “Well, this would be a lot easier if you weren’t all clenched up.”

            Jensen breathes deep, still shaking a little from the reality of where he is. He had told the man over and over that he wasn’t joking before—that he didn’t say he wanted this just as a way to apologize for everything else. He tried, in the most direct way he could manage, to say that he wanted to be closer to Misha, like how the guy was close to him the first time Danneel had ever watched them together … _and the second time … and the third_. Jensen tenses again when he feels the man’s finger slide along the cleft of his ass. _Fuck … hold it together. Relax. Breathe._

            “We can stop, Jen. We don—”

            “ _No_! I’m committed to this now. Just … just do it!”

            He listens to Misha sigh as his other hand stills—stopping the smooth strokes he was laying over his shaft. “Jensen … this shouldn’t be something you just grit your teeth and bear. You should be at least _a little_ excited about it. If you’re not, then I don’t want to do it.”

            Jensen finally lets his eyes open, staring at the roof of the hotel room. The smooth ceiling is low, and it seems to drop lower when he realizes that he’s going to have to talk about this more if it’s ever going to happen. He pushes himself up onto his elbows so he can look his friend in the eye. Misha is hovering over him, one hand still resting at the base of his cock and the other, lubed up and ready to delve knuckle deep into his ass— _yet he still looks like Misha_. Naked, compromised slightly, but _Misha_ all the same. Jensen smiles at the sight. “ _Look_. You know I’ve never been adventurous like you, and I certainly don’t like to feel vulnerable, and having you spread me out like fucking marmalade on toast is _certainly_ going to set me on edge—that doesn’t mean that I don’t want it though. Okay? I can’t promise I’ll really enjoy it, or that I’ll ever want to do it again; but I do want to at least try it … I want to try it with _you_.”

            Misha smiles and cocks his head to the side, looking impossibly cute for being naked and erect. Jensen jerks as the smile suddenly shifts, and a heated gleam enters his friend’s eye. “Well, I suppose I need to start warming you up properly then” Misha growls, so low it would put Castiel’s voice to shame. Jensen shivers, every inch of his skin peaking with bumps. “Lie back and spread your legs.” Jensen hesitates, causing Misha to lean in and eye him hard. “I said— _spread_ _them_.”

            Jensen complies, falling back while shutting his eyes and shifting his thighs further apart. He feels himself open up a little and the gap is quickly filled with Misha’s fingers. The tip of one plays with the rim of his hole and he seizes up.

            “Relax” Misha commands.

            “Easier said than done” Jensen breathes, trying desperately to ease his mind.

            “Think about your toes.”

            Jensen opens his eyes again, squinting once more to the ceiling. “ _What_?”

            “It’s a trick the masseurs use to relax their clients. Think about your toes.”

            “How many massages do you get?” Jensen asks with a laugh.

            “Be quiet and think about your damn toes!” Misha grumbles and Jensen closes his eyes again, already calmed a little with the familiar ability to get under his friend’s skin.

            He thinks of his toes, wiggling each one in succession, barely noticing when Misha manages to slip the very tip of finger inside. He pushes a little deeper and Jensen winces, feeling a burn pulse across his skin.

            “ _Toes_ …”

            “Yeah, yeah” Jensen hisses, breathing deep and going back to his perverse game of _little piggies._ Misha begins stroking his shaft again; helping his muscles soften with each pass.

            “You know, I _have_ thought about this” Misha hums, stroking a little faster.

            “ _Oh yeah_?” Jensen says mid-moan, beginning to squirm beneath his friend’s touch.

            “ _Mhm_. I’ve thought about just how _good_ you’d feel around me. I’ve thought about how wrecked you would be afterwards—but mostly, I’ve thought about the faces you’ll make.”

            Jensen tries to speak but Misha slides his thumb across his tip, making him groan and bite the inside of his cheek. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he imagines the faces too—and he can’t fathom how any of them would be attractive.

            “I can just see your eyes bursting wide … and the sweat collecting on your temples.” Misha sighs with his thoughts, gripping Jensen’s shaft harder and sliding his slippery finger in a fraction deeper. Jensen curls his toes. “Oh and _your jaw_! It would be clenching and tightening … and your lips would be wet, falling apart every time I’d make you cry out.”

            Jensen’s mind grapples at his rushing thoughts, finally latching onto how Misha sounds whenever he’s pushing into him— _almost panicked,_ but filled with pleasure and complete, unrestrained want. _It is fucking hot._ He’s starting to see how the guy could fantasize about it; even though he knows Misha makes much sexier sounds than he ever could. Another push comes and Misha is already a knuckle deep.

            “I can’t wait to see how you look, Jensen. _I just can’t wait_.” He slides in deeper, moving around a little to open him up. Jensen tightens onto his fingers, gritting his teeth as his body burns once more. Misha holds himself steady, waiting for Jensen to release. After another moment, he does, and Misha slowly begins to pull out.

            The burning is worse with the pull—and between the white flashes of pain, Jensen wonders just how long it took the guy to get that plug in the first time, because _this is_ painstakingly slow and _pretty_ unpleasant to say the least. Misha stops just before he’s fully free, pressing back inside him faster than before. Jensen arches up, feeling the searing shocks, but something else too— _something good._

            He must have made some sort of _pleasurable_ face because he hears his friend chuckle low and eerie. “There it is …” He pulls out and thrusts in again, this time, stroking Jensen’s tip just as he hits the same spot inside him.

            The pain disappears and delicious warmth fills the pit of his stomach. Jensen moans, letting the warmth spread over him like a heavy blanket, weighing his body into the mattress. Misha repeats the action, making Jensen writhe against the sheets.

            “Do you think you’re ready for two?” Misha purrs, pulling out his finger completely and lining up another before Jensen can even answer.

            His slightly stretched hole is soon screaming against the pressure of the man’s second, thick finger. Misha speeds up his strokes, collecting the leaky drops that spilled out with the last few moments. Jensen goes back to wriggling his toes, biting his tongue and trying to remember how good it all felt once the burn went away. Misha slips along, finally dancing the tips of his fingers against the magic spot that makes Jensen a sloshing puddle on the bed. The pain pulls back once more leaving the warmth in its place. “ _Oh, god …”_ Jensen groans, reaching out to grip the blankets on either side of him.

            “ _Not anymore_ ” Misha laughs. “Although, I was for a time.”

            If Jensen could manage, he would roll his eyes, but he figures they are permanently fused to the back of his skull. Misha continues pumping into him, steady but firm—matching every thrust with a pull on Jensen’s now, sloppy cock.

            “If you’re enjoying two, let’s go for three … then we can talk about the main event.”

            Jensen feels the worry brew in his mind. He’s had Misha in his mouth—he _knows_ how big he is, and he can’t imagine all that fitting anywhere else. _Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit._

            The man slips back for the third time, and Jensen feels himself spread for the addition of the guy’s next finger. Oddly, it’s not as painful as the second was and he wonders if at a certain point, the body just gives in. He _hopes_ that’s the case. _Everything else will be easier if it is._

            The burn is subtle and slides away quickly as Misha presses into him. He works him over a bit longer this time, moving in and out, stroking up and down … letting Jensen really fall into the depths of pleasure. Soon, all the worry melts away, and Jensen can barely feel his body anymore—he’s at the whim of Misha’s hands. They tell him what to do and how to feel, and he can’t believe just how much he’s enjoying the complete lack of control.

            Misha slows after another few minutes, leaning down to lick Jensen’s tip, making the man’s green eyes blow wide with the conflicting sensation. He fits his lips around his head, sucking hard as he slides his fingers out completely. Jensen feels the void, but mostly, he feels Misha’s tongue glide over his slit and he shudders with each flick. His friend bobs down a time or two more before finally pulling off a sliding away. Cold air seems to attack his skin and Jensen instantly curls up—feeling too open and abandoned to stay spread out.

            “ _Hey, hey, hey_ … keep those apart!” Misha demands, pushing himself up onto his knees and scooting in front of Jensen’s legs.

            Jensen watches, sweating as he catches a glimpse of Misha slicking himself up, hard and ready to press inside him. He clamps his knees together, suddenly aware of how he must look, and he can’t help but cringe with the image.

            “ _You’re okay,_ Jen. Alright? You’re okay.” Misha hums the words, sounding a full one hundred and eighty degrees from where he was just a moment ago. He reaches down to rub soft circles into Jensen’s hips. “Close your eyes, we’ll go slow.”

          Jensen does as he’s told, shutting out the world and letting his body relax with the soft touches from his friend. He feels Misha’s other hand, still slick with lube, push between his knees, spreading them gently. Jensen gives in, moving them the rest of the way and allowing the man to scoot in closer. The heat from Misha’s waist burns against his sensitive skin. Jensen grips the blankets again, prepping for what’s to come.

            Misha’s hands move away as he crawls over him, eventually sliding up so his mouth is hovering just above Jensen’s lips. “Are you okay?”

            Jensen nods, still keeping his eyes closed.

            “ _Okay_ , tell me if you want me to stop. I’m right here, I’ll do whatever you need. Alright? You’re okay, Jensen … everything is okay.”

            He feels Misha pull one of his hands back to line himself up. Another moment passes and what feels like a thousand pounds of pressure, shoves against his rim. Jensen gasps.

            “Jensen, _look_ at me.”

_I can’t._

            “Jensen, open your eyes and look at me, okay? You’re okay.”

_This is going to suck._

            “Jensen … open your eyes.”

            The pressure remains, but his friend’s hand moves back up to slide over his cheek. Jensen opens his eyes, instantly drowning in an ocean of blue.

            “Hey, you’re okay. You understand?” Misha pushes in a little more, finally letting his tip stretch out Jensen’s opening. “I’m right here, Jen. I’m right here.”

            The man’s hand is warm against his skin and his words are warm in his ears. He drifts into the tepid waters of his eyes, never blinking and dissolving away as they pool around him.

            “Hold onto me, I’m going to go in a bit more—so hold on.”

            Jensen releases the blankets and slides his hands up Misha’s shoulders, eventually locking them across the back of his neck. The man gives a more forceful thrust, making his tip pop in past the first ring of muscles. The burn is immediate and ten times worse than anything the man’s fingers left behind. Jensen yanks his friend down but Misha manages to stay still—caressing his cheek through the pain, shushing him softly as he hisses and barks. After another second, he slides in more, but the worst seems to be over, with only a dull ache echoing through his bones.

            “I’m going to go all the way in now, alright?” Misha coos, dropping his forehead down so it’s resting softly on Jensen’s. Jensen nods, trying hard to steady his breathing. Misha begins to push, not stopping this time—sliding in until he hits the one spot that makes this whole thing worth it. Jensen gasps, forcing himself into the man above him, still holding tightly to his neck. Misha slides out a little and lunges in again. Green breaks free into blue, still coating him completely. Misha stops, holding his gaze, impossibly close as Jensen matches it—he thrusts a third time. Jensen is set aflame, the warmth igniting into uncontrolled combustion, exploding each time Misha lays into him.

            “Jensen …”

            “I’m— _good_ ” Jensen gasps. “Ke—keep going.”

            Misha nods against him, steadying his pace, becoming more religious with his movements. Jensen feels himself expand, the friction of the man’s stomach sliding across his tip, only adding to the numerous sensations making it hard for him to think. He shakes beneath his friend, locking his legs around Misha’s calves, trying to hold himself still—to hold himself to the man above him, to hold himself together because he feels like he could just shatter. _Yet_ , somehow, shattering seems like the only thing he _wants_ to do.

            Misha speeds up, letting out his own, stifled moans—making Jensen ache even more with the sound. He drags his fingertips over the man’s back, feeling every ridge press and flex against them. Misha’s puts his other hand back down, giving himself more support to move. His arms tighten along Jensen’s sides, making him feel almost small between them. _God damn, he’s strong._ His tips leaks along his friend’s stomach, and he begins to fade as he feels himself come close to the edge.

            “ _Fuck, Mish!_ ” Jensen growls, delirious as the man continues to fill him up.

            Misha stops mid-stride. “ _What_? Did I hurt you?”

            Jensen rips his eyes wide, “ _No_! Move! Fast!”

            Misha complies without hesitation, quickly matching his speed from before, and then, surpassing it—making Jensen suck in a gallon of air.

            “ _Shit! Fuck!”_ Jensen spits, letting his eyes choose between bulging and welding shut.

            “ _You_ —” Misha pants, “you close?”

            Jensen nods, feelings every muscle in his body snap.

            Misha pushes in faster, deeper, striking the spot inside him over and over without pause. Jensen rolls his head to the side, biting at the air, trying with everything he has not to scream. The small, stretched space, stretches a little further as Misha swells within it. A whining grunt rings out through the room and Jensen manages to peek out enough to see his friend: eyes closed—face scrunched, seeming almost pained as he moves. Another thrust and he’s biting his lip, before spitting out a second cry. Jensen chokes as he feels a foreign heat erupt inside him. Misha seizes, shaking and trying his hardest not fall across Jensen’s chest. He loses his battle, finally collapsing once the pulses subside. Jensen is still thrumming, feeling his cock start to jerk and press against the added weight of the man on top of him—but he doesn’t care. He wraps his arms tightly around Misha’s shoulders, gripping him to his body until he feels properly fused. With a contented sigh, he leans in and kisses the top of the man’s head, dragging his hand up and running his fingers through his hair. Misha starts to shift, as if he is going to roll off—probably with the intentions of helping Jensen finish; but Jensen clutches him again, keeping him in place.

            “Don’t move— _don’t go_. I want to stay like this … can we? Just like this?” He feels his friend smile against his chest, eventually sliding his hands up until they slip beneath Jensen’s back and lock over his shoulders. The men relax, sinking into the other and letting their heightened senses drop back down. The thoughts that follow are eased—half dreams that don’t apply to anything outside their skin. Misha holds on tighter, still letting him know that he’s not going to move, he's not going at all. Jensen buries his face into the mess of dark hair below him, loving how it tickles his lips, all the while, trying hard to swallow the lump that’s formed in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this did not go the way I thought it was going to (much fluffier than what I had originally planned.) I hope you guys like it. I think the next chapter will be the last ... but it could surprise me again. We'll see how lucky you guys are!


	32. Full Names and Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s358.photobucket.com/user/worksbysenorajane/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-01-20131956-1_zpsb3c12e59.jpg.html)   
> 

            “Babe, just _sit down_! I’ll take care of it!” Jensen groans, staring at his wife who’s _still_ cleaning, despite his pleas.

            “ _When?_ ” she spits back without looking.

            “Right after I take a shower, just like I said I would.” He can’t see her face, but he can tell by the way her shoulders hunch, she is _not_ happy with that answer.

            “Well, I don’t think this can wait for one of your _epically long_ showers, and everyone could arrive at any time. I want the house to look at least _half way_ decent for when they all get here.”

            Jensen rolls his eyes while walking around the kitchen counter to where his wife is scrubbing the grout. “I highly doubt anyone is going to be checking every nook and cranny for dirt, babe. _Just relax_. Everything is going to be fine.”

            Danneel puts down the brush in her hand and braces herself against the counter. “ _Jensen_ , this was _your_ idea to have everyone over for this party, _yet_ … I’ve seen you do _very_ little in order to prepare for it. You _know_ that’s going to stress me out and you _know_ when I get stressed, I have to take control over the situation; and overall, you _should_ know that since  _my_ birthday got lumped in with Gen's, I’m going to be _more_ than a little annoyed that I’m having to do any of this!” She whips her head to glare at him as she finishes her speech.

           "I just thought it might be nice to celebrate both since we're all going to be here" he explains weakly. 

            She scoffs and looks away a moment.  "I understand the logic for doing our birthdays together ... I just don't like that _I'm_ the one having to do all the work." 

            Jensen sighs, grabbing his wife’s hand and tugging her close. “You really just can’t let me get away with anything, can you?”

            Danneel’s face curls into a confused snarl but Jensen kisses her before anymore words can slither past her lips.

            “ _Come on._ Let me show you something” Jensen chuckles as he pulls away, dragging the frustrated woman with him.

            “Jensen, I don’t have time for this!”

            He laughs again. “You do, you just don’t know it yet.”

            They move through the kitchen and down the hall towards the foyer. Soon, his heated wife is steaming out in the open air of their front yard.

            “ _Jensen_! I don’t want to go on a walk right now! I need to get back and clean the bathrooms!” she hisses, but Jensen ignores her and continues their trek towards the sidewalk. “ _Jensen Ross Ackles_ , do you hear me? _Let go!”_

The man flinches with his full name, but he muscles through, tightening his loose grip on her wrist. Soon, the two are rounding the corner of their block, placing them directly in front of the park that made them choose _this_ neighborhood when they first moved to Austin. The other private communities seemed very cramped, even though each housing lot itself was quite large. Not to mention, they were all a good deal further from Jared than Jensen preferred. _This_ area was not very different in terms of space, except for the park around the corner and the lake behind them. The realtor they were working with at the time was very adamant about showing it to them—insisting that their daughter would love having the place to play. As soon as Jensen and Danneel saw the large playground surrounded by a mile of woods and walking trails, they had to agree. Now, they approach the park once again—feeling much more familiar after being warmed by a year of memories, picnics, and quality time. Jensen slows his pace, waiting to hear the tone in his wife’s voice change. After another few steps, he relaxes with the sweet gasp that slides off her tongue.

            “ _Jensen_ … what is all this?”

            He doesn’t answer.

            “ _Jensen_?” Danneel insists, finally pulling in front to eye him down properly.

            He gives her a coy smile and shrugs. “ _What_?”

            She punches his shoulder before gesturing wide to the large tent and trailers being set up in the park.

            “ _Ow_! _Son of a bitch_!” he yelps, rubbing his hand over the end of his collar bone.

            She rolls her eyes at him, knowing he’s playing up the pain for sympathy. “Okay, _Dean_! Now tell me, what the hell _is_ all this?”

            Jensen stops nursing his shoulder and smiles wide once more. “It’s the reason you can stop cleaning the damn house and relax a little. _This_ is the birthday party, okay? No one is even going to be at our house until tonight and I hired some maids for the day to clean it while we are out here” he nods towards the commotion across the way and shuffles in closer to rub his wife’s arm. “ _Everything_ will be taken care of. So _please_ , can you just chill out and enjoy your damn day?”

            Danneel’s mouth is gaping as she turns again to look at the park. Jensen follows her gaze, watching as the caterers set up long tables with lush decorations. Just beyond those is a canopy tent with a dance floor beneath. Jason is already there, setting up his sound equipment with the band. _It’s nice to be friends with a musician._ Jensen’s eyes flick down as Danneel slowly looks back at him. Her face seems to run the gauntlet of emotions, twitching from a happy smile, to a confused glare—finally to a smirk and then a scowl. Another, heavier punch is laid into his shoulder.

            “ _Son of bitch_ —“

            “You just let me go half out of my mind _all day_ —cleaning and running around and making check lists so everything could be done; meanwhile, you were doing all _this_!” she hisses, but the hints of another smile start to grace her face.

            Jensen grins wide, still rubbing his aching shoulder. “Well, I needed _some_ entertainment for all my hard work, didn’t I?” He rocks away before she can punch him again.

            “You’re a _dick_!” she huffs, looking back to watch some workers moving the food-trailer into place on the lawn.

            “ _Yeah_ … but you love me” Jensen chuckles, quickly scooping up his wife into his arms like a princess.

            “ _Jen_!” she yelps, throwing her hands around his neck for support. “What are you doing?”

            Jensen turns around and propels back towards the house, leaning in to kiss her as he does. “I’m going to make sure you’re nice and relaxed for this party.”

            His wife opens her mouth to protest again, but closes it quickly—smoking her eyes from _annoyance_ to _hunger_ in record time.

            Jensen speeds up, knowing that he needs to get Danneel into their bed before she can think of anything else to do before their friends arrive.

***

            They move, slow and sweet against each other—Jensen, taking extra care to do everything he knows she likes. He grins as the peace finally falls over her face and she sinks, naked and malleable into the sheets. He slips away, grinning with a job well done, but Danneel catches his hand by the fingers and weakly pulls him back in.

            “Don’t get in the shower yet— _please?”_ she begs, sounding nearly asleep.

            Jensen smiles, crawling up her body once more and kissing her forehead. “Okay, babe.” He nestles down against her side, curling around her curves, protecting them with every inch of his skin. She turns into him, eyes closed and content, letting long, low breaths wisp across his chest. Jensen brushes his lips along her nose, making her giggle and push in closer. She finally tucks her head under his chin as he scoots up to work his other arm beneath her neck to wrap her up completely. He doesn’t look at the clock on the bedside table and he ignores the ticking of his watch on the dresser. The minutes for the rest of the world don’t count when they’re like this— _it’s her time now._

***

            “I’m so glad you guys decided to do this as a combined thing!” Gen yips, clanking her glass against the side of Danneel’s.

            Jensen laughs as his wife blushes and takes another sip of her overly-fruity cocktail.

            “Well, I figured since we were all going to be in Texas for the convention anyway, might as well celebrate the birth of _this_ old bitty too.” Jensen grits his teeth in a wide grin and perks his shoulders up as Danneel sticks her tongue out at him.

            Genevieve jumps in before his wife can punch him again. “Well, you’re just lucky this _old bitty_ puts up with all your crap. Plus, this _old bitty_ looks _damn_ good if I do say so myself. I don’t know how you got so lucky!”

            Jensen slides in close to his wife, noting for the thousandth time how amazing she looks—her floral sundress draping flawlessly around her body and her hair flitting easily in the breeze. It’s unseasonably warm for mid-January in Austin, and he is thankful for it. He knows how much Danneel likes dressing in light, airy clothes and the afternoon sun seemed determined to help her do just that. His hand finds its way around her waist and he grips her hip with a loving squeeze. “I don’t know how I got so lucky either” he whispers while kissing her on the temple; she smiles up at him—her eyes curving with an honest and easy joy that makes him feel like he just might have done everything right for once.

            “ _Help!_ _Dean_! The monsters! _They got me_!”

            Everyone’s attention is quickly snagged by Jared, collapsing to the ground beneath the many tiny hands of the kids. They crawl over him like he’s their personal jungle gym, not caring that their little feet might be jabbing his ribs or kicking his stomach.

            Jensen laughs hard as he watches JJ tug at his friend’s hair, using it as leverage to crawl up over his shoulders. The giant man winces and yelps as Tom leaps onto his chest, attempting his own unique wrestling move that’s bound to bring down his moose of a father. Shep wanders around the chaos, waving his pudgy hands emphatically—not quite sure _where_ to join in, but he obviously wants to. The man finally falls flat onto the grass, conceding defeat and letting the kids maul him completely.

           Jensen whistles just as Shep flops on top of his brother, completing the dog pile. “I don’t know _Sammy_. Those monsters look pretty mean. I don’t think I can take ‘em.”

            “You’re supposed to be the _best_ hunter on the planet!” Jared booms as he tickles his sons’ sides.

            “Yeah, but even _I_ have my limits, bro!”

            JJ giggles as she tugs on Jared’s hair some more. “Uncoo Jar! _Get up_! Up, up!”

            Jared groans, rocking back and forth on the grass “I can’t sweetie. Y’all killed me.”

            The little girl laughs before leaning down and kissing him on the forehead. “All better!”

            Jensen melts, _damn, I got a sweet kid._

            “You’re right! I _am_ all better!” Jared croaks, sitting up and grabbing his two boys as he works himself back to his feet. Tom and Shep kick and laugh, wriggling in his arms as he walks towards the rest of the adults standing near one of the tables. “We could really use that on the show … just _one_ kiss from _this_ little cutie and I’m back from the dead!” Jared chuckles, nodding down towards JJ, who’s reaching up for her uncle to carry her too—her fingers barely grasping beyond his knee. Jensen hands his beer to Danneel and scoops up their daughter, placing her firmly on Jared’s shoulders. She squeals and clasps her hands across the man’s forehead, turning her tiny knuckles white as she holds on. Jared pulls his boys up onto his hips and turns to bound back towards to the playground. “ _Ah_! The monsters got me again!” he screeches, jumping as he runs, making the kids laugh and shriek along with him.

            “He better wear them out by the end of the day. I can’t deal with those two all hyped up if I’m buzzed” Gen groans, taking another, large gulp of her drink.

            “Well, I could cut you off from the bar” Jensen laughs, reaching out to grab her glass.

            “If you want to keep that hand, Ackles, I’d _back off_!” The tiny woman’s dark eyes shoot pure fury and Jensen backs away, amazed that his friend is able to survive those glares on a daily basis.

            “ _Woah_ , alright then. No one is touching your drinks!”

            Genevieve nods with a huff and finishes off the last of her cocktail. She smacks her lips grandly with the final swallow, tipping it with a devilish grin. “I’m going for more. Anyone else want a refill?”

            Jensen and Danneel both shake their head and smile as they watch all five foot, four inches of dark headed- _sass_ , saunter back to the small bar that’s been set up next to the canopy.

            “I’m glad she’s enjoying herself” Danneel chuckles. “I know she’s been worn out from the boys lately.”

            “Yeah. I honestly don’t know how she does it.” He takes his beer back from his wife’s loving grasp, and pulls her closer. “Plus, she has to put up with _that_ jackass” Jensen rasps, tilting the neck of the bottle towards the playground where Jared is currently spinning around. Jensen flinches as the man comes dangerously close to flinging all the children in different directions with his speed. “ _Oh god,_ someone is going to end up hurt by the end of this, I can already te—” he’s cut off by the familiar grip of little arms wrapping around his knee. He looks down to see West’s large eyes staring up at him. “Hey buddy! Where’d you come from?”

            West grins wide and squeezes his leg tighter. “The car!” he giggles, looking mischievous and too much like his father.

            Jensen spits out an exasperated laugh. “Well, _obviously_. Where are your mom and dad?”

            “The car!” West chirps again, now vibrating with humor.

            His beer is quickly set down on the table before he snaps back to snatch the boy up into his arms, flipping him upside down and tickling his belly. “You think you’re _so clever,_ don’t you?” Jensen chuckles, pulling the elated child over his shoulder.

            “ _Uh huh_!” West confirms giddily.

            Jensen turns to smile at Danneel, who’s beaming ear to ear. She’s had a soft spot for West since the day she met him _._ She says all the time, he makes her want a little boy of their own. A blonde, curly head catches his eye and he looks over his wife’s shoulder to see Maison waddling towards them—Misha and Vicki in tow.

            “I see my son is already keeping you busy” Misha shouts, adjusting diaper bags and duffels across his shoulders.

            “Yeah. He’s over here, being a smart-aleck” Jensen confirms, tickling the boy some more, making him screech into his ear. “ _Agh_! _Okay_ , _okay_ … look, Uncle Jared is over there and I know he really needed someone to try and beat him up. You think you can do that?”

            West stops wriggling and nods enthusiastically.

            “Alright, _awesome_. Go get him!” Jensen laughs while setting the boy down. West’s feet barely touch the grass before he’s jetting off towards the playground and diving at Jared’s knees. The tall man shouts and falls into the sand, somehow keeping all the kids upright as he tumbles. Maison is not far behind, making frustrated noises with each step. She apparently doesn’t like that there is fun being had without her.

            “Good, let them take their energy out on _him_. That saves the rest of us a lot of headaches” Misha chuckles, finally pulling up alongside Danneel and setting down his bags.

            Jensen grins wide at him, feeling himself warm all over when the man returns the look. The corners of his eyes crack with happy lines.

            Vicki leans in to hug Danneel. “Happy _early_  birthday _._ I’m really glad we could come out and celebrate it with you guys this year, even though it _is_ over a month early ... _and_ a week late for Genevieve."

            “I don’t care _how_  early it is, as long as we can all get together” Danneel sighs, reaching out to give Misha a hug once Vicki pulls away.

            “This _is_ a rare treat!” the man says, looking at her adoringly. “You look gorgeous, by the way. How about I dump _this_ guy as the third wheel and replace him with _you_?”

            “I’m all for that!” Vicki chirps, winking seductively at Danneel.

            Jensen laughs as his wife’s face turns as pink as the tinted liquid in her glass. “Well, I doubt _this one_ would be too happy with that” she says, cocking her head in his direction.

            “Hell, make it _four_ _wheels_ and I’m all for it!”

            “Yeah, _sure_ Jen. You can barely function with two. You were proud unicycle most of your life” Danneel hisses, finishing off the last sip of her drink.

           Misha laughs and clasps her on the shoulder. “Yeah … so, like I said. You’re a welcomed replacement for him anytime.”

            “Thanks, I may just take you up on that the next time I clean the _whole, damn house_ before he decides to tell me that he’s hired a maid!” Danneel snaps, narrowing her eyes at her sheepish spouse.

            “I was trying not to ruin the surprise!” he scoffs, grabbing his beer off the table. “I suppose that makes me a _bad husband!_ ”

            His wife rolls her eyes away from him, looking back to Vicki and Misha. “ _Yeah, yeah_ … you guys want a drink?”

            “Sure! I’ll come with you” Vicki sings, looping her arm through Danneel’s and leading her towards the bar to meet up with Gen.

            Misha turns to watch them go before rounding back and stepping closer to Jensen. “So, would you _actually_ want to make it a foursome someday?” he whispers, leaning in a little too close for the outside world to see.

            Jensen’s body burns and he pulls away, feeling the fire crawl up his neck. “I—I don’t know … _maybe._ _In time_ …”

            Misha rocks back with a laugh, “I don’t mean _now_!” he puts his hand out and rubs down Jensen’s arm, keeping it on his sleeve long enough to leave a phantom heat once he pulls away. “I was just curious if it was something you have thought about previously.”

            Jensen shrugs, selfishly wishing the man was still touching him. “Yeah— _I guess._ I mean … it might be a little weird. I—I don’t know. I just … I feel like …”

            “ _Jen_ …” Misha slides in an inch more, looking around to make sure no one’s eyes are on them. Jensen looks around too. All the caterers are in the trailer, getting dinner ready. Jason is still hidden behind the folds of the canopy, doing a rough sound check; and by the noise behind them, it’s obvious the kids are still enthralled with murdering their co-star. _We’re safe._ A quick kiss glances the side of his mouth. “I’m not pushing you into anything, or even into a discussion _about_ anything. Like I said—I was just curious, okay?”

            Jensen nods, easing into the mellow waters in front of him.

            Misha smiles. “ _Now_ , how about you and I get shit faced and borderline _inappropriate_ on that dance floor?”

***

            The rest of the guests arrived shortly after Misha and Vicki—rounding out the group to an even fifty, not including the kids … which seemed to be underfoot everywhere. Many of Danneel’s and Gen's friends were women they met at various “mommy and me” classes or other social functions that the kids were dragged into; so they all had at least one child to toss into the mix. The remaining attendees were people Jensen and Jared had known for years, or family that was able to make it up for the day. As the sun shifted down the line to its preferred slot on the horizon, the air began to cool. Heating lamps were taken out and hooked up around the canopy, making everyone huddle underneath while they danced and listened to Jason play a set he usually reserved for his bigger shows. They ate and talked, and Jensen watched his wife laugh and look happier than she has in months. She had been down ever since she lost the part she was reading for that first day he and Misha got _close_ ; and even though she didn’t hold it against him, Jensen felt guilty. Every time he came home and saw her looking for auditions or talking with her agent, he felt like his relationship with his friend cast her aside yet again. He was determined to make her feel important—and now, as everyone drunkenly sings “happy birthday” to her and Genevieve, and as the large cake wheels out, glowing with candles—he thinks he’s finally succeeded. Danneel gleams, sparkling out from the sea of joyful faces; the grin on her lips, shining brighter than anything. _She always shines brighter than anything._

***

            “So, you’re holding up in his house until the convention? Why am I _not_ surprised?” Jared asks, narrowing his eyes at Misha and making Jensen blush with his implication.

            “ _Yes_ , I am. With my wife and two children—it’s not going to be quite the _romantic getaway_ that you’re insinuating” Misha retorts, leaning back in his chair and sipping from his glass.

            The three men look over towards the canopy, barely able to spot their wives dancing amongst the crowd.

            “This turned out really nice, you guys. I’m impressed” Misha says after a few more, peaceful moments.

          "Well,  it was mostly Jensen's planning.  I suck at this kind of thing.  I was in charge of the bar though" Jared says,  holding his head up proudly. 

          "That's very nice too" Misha confirms while raising his glass. "It is _all_ really nice."

            Jensen smiles at him, reaching over to pat the guy’s knee. “Thanks man. I can do _some_ things right every now and then.”

            “Okay, okay you two. Don’t make me get the hose” Jared chides, pushing out his foot to kick Jensen’s hand away.

            “ _Jesus_ , you just want to make _everything_ we do, dirty don’t you?” Jensen laughs, kicking back at him. His tall friend slides down in his chair, trying to get a better reach with his foot in order to knock away Jensen’s. The two are soon tussling so much, they nearly slip out of their seats.

            “ _Yeah_ , that’s an unfair assumption, Jared—considering that _you’re_ currently playing _footsy_ with him, and I’m just _sitting_ _here_.”

            Jared barks out a laugh, tapping Misha’s shin before pulling back. “You know I’m just jealous. You stole him away from me after all.”

            Jensen’s sixth beer churns happily in his stomach, drowning out his normal filter. “Oh, don’t worry, baby—you know deep down, I’ll _always_ be yours.”

            Jared rolls again, tossing his head back and shaking out his hair. “Oh man, that sounded _way_ too fucking sincere.”

            Misha grins evilly at the man and dips his voice into the thick tones that Jensen only ever hears beneath bedroom covers. “Who’s to say it wasn’t?” their blue eyed friend sits up straighter, filling the air with lust. “Jen and I  have been talking and we think it might be fun to add a little _moose-meat_ to our man sandwich.”

            Jared freezes mid laugh—his eyes bursting as he glances between the men at his side. Jensen manages to hold his serious expression—shocked when he sees Misha doing the same. “You guys … you’re _not_ —serious … _are you_?”

           Jensen holds himself together; knowing that Jared is fairly drunk and it’s about the only time anyone is capable of messing with him like this.

            Misha leans across the small gap between their chairs, sliding his hand up Jared’s long thigh. “ _You tell me_ —I’m sure you’re curious.”

            Jensen nearly loses it, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch, but thankfully, Jared’s eyes are locked onto Misha, still gawking with hazy confusion.

            “I—I …”

            The man finally turns to Jensen, a desperate plea for _help_ wrecking his face. Misha’s hand continues to warm his thigh. Jensen answers his best friend’s cries with the most lecherous wink he can muster.

            Jared cracks, leaping up from his seat and stepping back—nearly falling over a tree root as he goes. “I’m going to check on the girls!” he yelps, turning around and stumbling in the direction of the canopy.

            Jensen falls apart—wheezing laughs gasping from his throat, making his eyes water. “ _Oh shit_! He actually believed you!”

            Misha grins triumphantly. “I swear, if he was drunk on set—my life would be a lot easier.”

            Jensen calms a little, still bouncing on the remnants of the joke. “Yeah, but fucking with _you_ is pretty damn fun too. You can’t take that away from us.”

            Misha takes another drink from his glass before reaching out to set it on Jared’s empty seat. With a cool breath, he shifts up, sliding the chair around so it can face Jensen head on—he draws it in close until their knees touch. Jensen looks up as his friend reaches out to caress his leg, knowing that the intention _here_ is much different than what it was with Jared. The man looks down a moment, eventually rocking his eyes up from beneath his brow—making the whites almost glow in the greying twilight. “I’m not going to take anything away from you, Jensen.” Misha smiles, so shy and sweet, it makes him bring down his hand to cup his friend’s, letting their heat mix across his lap. “Something about you … just makes me want to give you everything.”

***

            “ _West Anaximander Collins! Get back here!_ ”

            Jensen jumps aside as the naked little boy bolts past him, leaving his father running just behind, pajamas clutched tightly in his hands.

            “You could have grabbed him!” Misha snaps as he rushes by, trying to catch his son.

            “This is so much more entertaining though!” Jensen hollers back, watching the two disappear around the corner towards the kitchen. He laughs as he makes his way down the hall and into JJ’s room—where he finds the girl already dressed for bed, teeth brushed, patiently waiting for her daddy to come tuck her in. _Thank God for her._

            “Where’s mommy?” she asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

            Jensen smiles, pushing through the door and walking over to kiss her on the top of her curly head. “Mommy had too many _grown up_ drinks and had to go to sleep early.”

            His daughter nods, accepting the answer before lying back onto her pillows. “ _Sing_?” she asks, her little cheeks scrunching up with a yawn immediately after.

            “Sure, sweetie. What do you want me to sing?”

            “Mountain song, peese” she whispers, already closing her eyes— only to have them burst wide a second later when the sound of something crashing, echoes from down the hall.

            Misha’s voice quickly follows the noise. “Sorry! We’re all good!”

            Jensen laughs and shakes his head. _I’m so happy I got her_. He looks back to JJ before bending down and sliding onto his knees beside her bed. He folds his arms across her blanket and rests his chin on his wrist—letting his fingertips rub kindly onto the back of his daughter’s hand.

 _“_ _Oh the summer time is coming_ …” his voice is low and soft, a level he could barely call _singing_ —but he knows she’s almost asleep as it is and he won’t need much more to rock her away. “ _And the trees are sweetly blooming_ …” he watches her eyes flutter open and shut, indecisive of what they want to be, and he rubs her hand a little more—trying to ease their decision. “ _Where the wild mountain thyme_ …” They finally close, and her narrow chest rises and falls with one last, heavy breath before it eases into a steady rhythm for him to sing to. “ _Grows around the blooming heather. Would you go, lassie, go?”_ He could stop now, but he doesn’t. He loves these moments, knowing there’ll be a day all too soon when they go away. His little girl won’t need a song. She won’t fight off sleep until his voice can make it welcome. _No_ , it will feel like tomorrow when she begins to shy away, looking at him like he's the biggest dork she’s ever seen— _and she won’t be wrong._ He just hopes that there will always be love in her eyes whenever they fall on him, even if they roll when he talks or tries to assert some authority. He just needs his baby girl to stay _his_ as long as she’ll allow. So for now, he’ll sing, knowing she’s still small enough to find it important. “ _And we'll all go together. Where the wild mountain thyme. Grows around the blooming heather. Would you go, lassie, go?”_

_***_

            “I wish I lived near water” Misha whispers, pushing his hand into Jensen’s hold and pressing against his side.

            “What do you mean? You got the ocean just an hour away from you.”

            Misha sighs and looks out onto the shadowy lake, seeming to breathe in time with the crickets and glow with the flashes of the fireflies. “Yeah, but that’s still an _hour_ away. You just have to walk out your back door and you have _this._ ”

            Jensen nods, turning for a moment to take in the sight. _It is nice._

            “I would dig out a spot for a pond or something in the backyard—but knowing West, he’d probably try to build a raft and end up drowning in it.”

            Jensen chuckles, looking back to his friend, the moon ghosting his skin—lightening every feature and etching layers into his eyes. “ _No_ , that kid is smarter than the two of us combined. He would probably build a submarine and have the whole pond mapped out by the end of the first day.”

            Misha huffs out a laugh. “You have a lot of faith in a boy who just stood on your kitchen counter and tried to pee into your sink.”

            “Was that what all the noise was about?” Jensen chuckles, tilting his head forward and squeezing his friend’s hand.

            “Yeah, I knocked over some canisters while rushing over to grab him. I’m just amazed he didn’t pee on _me_ ” Misha sighs, rubbing his face with his other hand. “ _God_ —the joys of fatherhood.”

            “ _Hey_ , JJ has never tried to pee in anyone’s sink … or on me for that matter; so I don’t know what you’re talking about” Jensen prods, elbowing the guy playfully. “Maybe I’m just better at this whole _fatherhood_ thing than you are.”

            Misha’s face remains straight, “Maybe you are! How about you take West for a while and see if you can whip him into shape?”

            “ _Nah_ , man. The best way to learn is by doing—so that’s all on _you_.”

            Misha scoffs and glares at Jensen out of the corner of his eye. “Well, if you and Danneel ever have another, then I hope it’s a _West_ and you can feel my pain.”

            Jensen chuckles, looking back at the man, watching his face change from playful humor to a simple ease that he has only _just_ realized, seems to be reserved for him. Turning a little, with his shoulder to the lake, Jensen reaches out to stroke his thumb over Misha’s cheek—his chest locking up as the man presses into his palm. They inch closer together, letting their limbs twine and touch, working their bodies into a knot—so tight, they can barely stay standing. Jensen drops his forehead down against his friend’s, closing his eyes for a moment as the sweet smell of the grass mixes with the hints carrying off the man’s skin. He’s happy he’s getting this moment—he didn’t think he would, considering the kids and the girls being so close by; but Danneel and Vicki were knocked out early on, and the kids are all in bed. It’s just the two of them—the two of them and the lake. The two of them and the fireflies. The two of them and the sleeping world, leaving them be so they can hold each other, _just like this_. It’s all he wants right now. It may be all he _ever_ wants.

            Misha tilts his head up, and Jensen leans in, blindly seeking his friend’s lips with his own—finding them after too long a moment and pressing sweetly into their touch.

            A soft _thud_ breaks them apart. They look back to see West, wide eyed, face scrunched against the glass of the sliding door. His muffled gasp is still plenty audible among the crickets and the whispering breeze sliding by their ears. Jensen feels Misha tense in his arms as they watch his son back away from the door. The men wait—as if they could stand still enough, the boy would simply forget and scamper back to bed; but West’s little mouth only gapes, finally bouncing on words—so loud, they echo through the entire house.

            “JJ! _I told you_! Your daddy loves _my_ daddy!”

            _Shit._

 

_~Fin~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** More shorts have been added! Click "next chapter" for links!!! ***
> 
> Well, that's it everyone! That is the end of a story I began three months ago - thinking it would only be a couple chapters, max! Now, thirty two chapters later, a few thousand hits and well over a hundred kudos ... it's done. I am seriously in shock that it's received as much attention as it has. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. It is crazy, but this fic has brought me so much. I have made life long friends with this story. I have found the confidence I needed to change my future and feel like I might actually have what it takes to be a published author someday. If not for the support and continued readership of all of you ... I would probably still be pretty depressed and lonely right now. So, ending this story is rather bitter sweet for me, because I feel like I'm ending so many wonderful relationships that I was just starting to build. I hope you all stick around - I do have about twenty other Destiel/Cockles works posted already and I promise to write more. I may even add little shorts to this one over time (I actually already added one, so go to the 'next chapter' to read it!), just so we all can check in on Jensen and Misha to see how they're getting on. I would love to hear what you think about this entire piece, so please, leave me a comment below. Also, if you wouldn't mind sharing the link with anyone you think might enjoy some Cockles love, I'd appreciate the recommendation!
> 
> I would love to see fan art for this fic as well, so if you're an artist and have a favorite scene and wish to draw something, I'd proudly post it with the story as well as on my tumblr page (giving you full credit and links to your blogs, of course). Just let me know!
> 
> Please, come find me on tumblr at castiel-left-his-mark-on-me. I would love to keep in touch with you guys, take your prompts requests and share the Cockles and Destiel love for as long as you wish.
> 
> Thank you again! I love you all!


	33. After The Plot: Motoring

 

 

 

[Want more of this story? Check out the new short- **After The Plot: Motoring**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3720652)

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	34. After The Plot: Odd Ingredients

[Want more of this story? Check out the new short- **After The Plot: Odd Ingredients**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4091053)

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	35. After The Plot: Crashing

[Want more of this story? Check out the new short- **After The Plot: Crashing**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4834175)

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	36. After The Plot: Spring Forward, Fall Back

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**Author's Note:**

> Please take a look at my other works as well ... many more feels, hottness and angst!
> 
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